I   Presen 

I   Date  i 

No.... 


From  at 
th 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 

GIFT  OF 

Calif  orni-d  °tate  Library 


register  pi 
taken  by  t 
slwill  be  re 

s0ii  injure  ^,.  —  „  .^  !„„„,„  ttliy  uuuntairen  rrom  the  Li- 
brary, he  shall  forfeit  and  pay  to  the  Librarian,  for  the 
benefit  of  the  Library,  three  times  the  value  thereof; 
and  before  the  Controller  shall  issue  his  warrant  in  favor 
of  any  member  or  officer  of  the  Legislature,  or  of  this 
State,  for  his  per  diem,  allowance,  or  salary,  he  shall  be 
.satisfied  that  such  member  or  officer  has  returned  all 
books  taken  out  of  the  Library  by  him,  and  has  settled 
all  accounts  for  injuring  such  books  or  otherwise. 

SKC.  15.  .Books  may  be  taken  from  the  Library  by  t  lie 
members  of  the  Legislature  and  its  officers  during  the 
Cession  of  the  same,  and  at  any  lime  by  the  Governor  and 
the  officers  of  the  Executive  Department  of  this  State 
who  are  required  to  keep  their  offices  at  the  seat  of 
government,  the  Justices  of  the  Supreme  Court,  the  At- 
torney-General and  the  Trustees  of  the  Library! 


-PR 


1-0 


MRS    HERBERT  TOWNSHEND  BOWEN, 


MY  DEAR  FHIEND, 

INDEPENDENT  of  the  personal  feelings  which  urged  the 
dedication  of  this  unpretending  volume  to  you,  I  know  fe"w 
to  whom  a  story  illustrative  of  a  mother's  solemn  responsi- 
bilities, intense  anxiety  to  fulfil  them,  and  deep  sense  of  the 
Influence  of  Home,  could,  with  more  justice,  be  tendered. 
Simple  as  is  the  actual  narrative,  the  sentiments  it  seeks  to 
illustrate,  are  so  associated  with  you  —  have  been  so  strength- 
ened from  the  happy  hours  of  unrestrained  intercourse  I 
have  enjoyed  with  you  —  that,  though  I  ought,  perhaps,  to 
have  waited  until  I  could  have  offered  a  work  of  far  supe- 
rior oerit  to  a  mind  like  yours,  I  felt  as  if  no  story  of  mine 
could  more  completely  belong  to  you.  Will  you,  then,  par- 
don the  unintentional  errors  which  I  fear  you,  as  an  earnest 
Protestant,  may  discern,  and  accept  this  little  work  as  a  slight 
tribute  of  the  warm  affection  and  sincere  esteem  with  which 
you  have  been  so  long  regarded  by 

Your  truly  attached  Friend, 

GRACE  AGUIt.AB 


PREFACE. 


THE  following  story  will,  the  author  trusts,  suffi- 
ciently illustrate  its  title  to  require  but  few  words  in 
the  way  of  preface.  She  is  only  anxious  to  impress  two 
facts  on  the  minds  of  her  readers.  The  one  —  that 
having  been  brought  before  the  public  principally  as 
the  author  of  Jewish  works,  and  as  an  explainer  of  the 
Hebrew  Faith,  some  Christian  mothers  might  fear  that 
the  present  work  has  the  same  tendency,  and  hesitate 
to  place  it  in  the  hands  of  their  children.  She  there- 
fore begs  to  assure  them,  that  as  a  simple  domestic 
story,  the  characters  in  which  are  all  Christians,  believ- 
ing in  and  practising  that  religion,  all  doctrinal  points 
nave  been  most  carefully  avoided,  the  author  seeking 
only  to  illustrate  the  spirit  of  true  piety,  and  the  virtues 
always  designated  as  the  Christian  virtues  thence  pro- 
ceeding. Her  sole  aim,  with  regard  to  Religion,  has 


n  PREFACE. 

been  to  incite  a  train  of  serious  and  loving  thought  to- 
ward God  and  man,  especially  toward  those  with  whom 
He  has  linked  us  in  the  precious  ties  of  parent  and 
child,  brother  and  sister,  master  and  pupil. 

The  second  point  she  is  desirous  to  bring  forward  is 
her  belief,  that  in  childhood  and  youth  the  spoken  senti- 
ment is  one  of  the  safest  guides  to  individual  character  ; 
and  th^t  if,  therefore,  she  have  written  more  conversa- 
tion than  may  appear  absolutely  necessary  for  the  elu- 
cidation of  "  Home  Influence,"  or  the  interest  of  the 
narrative,  it  is  from  no  wish  to  be  diffuse,  but  merely  tc 
illustrate  her  own  belief.  SENTIMENT  is  the  vehicle  of 
THOUGHT,  and  THOUGHT  the  origin  of  ACTION.*  Children 
and  youth  have  very  seldom  the  power  to  evince  cha- 
racter by  action,  and  scarcely  if  ever  understand  the 
mystery  of  thought ;  and  therefore  their  unrestrained 
conversation  may  often  greatly  aid  parents  and  teachers 
in  acquiring  a  correct  idea  of  their  natural  disposition, 
and  in  giving  hints  for  the  mode  of  education  each  rnay 
demand. 

Leaving  the  beaten  track  of  works  written  for  the 
young,  the  author's  aim  has  been  to  assist  in  the  educa- 
tion of  the  HEART,  believing  that  of  infinitely  greater 
importance  than  the  mere  instruction  of  the  MIND,  for 
the  bright  awakening  of  the  latter,  depends  far  more  on 
the  happy  influences  of  the  former  than  is  generally- 
sup  posed. 


PREFACE.  Vli 

The  moral  of  the  following  story  the  author  ackno  »v- 
ledges  is  addressed  to  mothers  only,  for  on  them  so 
much  of  the  responsibility  of  Home  Influence  devolves. 
On  them,  more  than  on  any  other,  depends  the  well- 
doing and  happiness,  or  the  error  and  grief,  not  of 
childhood  alone,  but  of  the  far  more  dangerous  period 
of  youth.  A  Preface  is  not  the  place  to  enter  on  their 
mission.  The  author's  only  wish  is,  to  aid  by  the 
thoughts,  which  in  some  young  mothers,  anxious  and 
eager  to  perform  their  office,  her  story  may  excite.  To 
daughters,  also,  she  hopes  it  may  not  be  found  entirely 
useless,  for  on  them  rests  so  much  of  the  happiness  of 
home,  in  4he  simple  thought  of,  and  attention  to  those 
little  things  which  so  bless  and  invigorate  domestic  life. 
Opportunities  to  evince  the  more  striking  virtues  wo. 
man  may  never  have,  but  for  the  cultivation  and  per 
rorrnance  of  the  lesser,  they  are  called  upon  each  day. 

CLAPTON,  January,  1847. 


MEMOIR   OF   GRACE    AGUILAIl. 


GRACE  AGUILAR  was  born  at  Hackney,  June  2d,  1816. 
She  was  the  eldest  child  and  only  daughter  of  Emanuel 
Aguilar,  one  of  those  merchants  descended  from  the 
Jews  of  Spain,  who,  almost  within  the  memory  of  man, 
fled  from  persecution  in  that  country,  and  sought  and 
found  an  asylum  in  England. 

The  delicate  frame  and  feeble  health  observable  in 
Grace  Aguilar  throughout  her  life  displayed  itself  from 
infancy  ;  from  the  age  of  three  years,  she  was  almost 
constantly  under  the  care  of  some  physician,  and,  by 
their  advice,  annually  spending  the  summer  months  by 
the  sea,  in  the  hope  of  rousing  and  strengthening  a 
naturally  fragile  constitution.  This  want  of  physical 
energy  was,  however,  in  direct  contrast  to  her  mental 
powers,  which  developed  early  and  readily.  She  learn- 
ed to  read  with  scarcely  any  trouble,  and,  when  once 
that  knowledge  was  gained,  her  answer,  when  asked 
what  she  would  like  for  a  present,  was,  invariably,  "  A 
book,"  which  was  read,  re-read,  and  preserved  with  a 
care  remarkable  in  so  young  a  child.  With  the  excep- 


X  MKM01R  OF  GRACE  A3UILAR. 

tion  of  eighteen  months  passed  at  school,  her  mothci 
was  her  sole  instructress,  and  both  parents  took  equal 
Jclight  in  directing  her  studies  and  facilitating  her  per- 
nonal  inspection  of  all  that  was  curious  and  interesting 
in  the  various  counties  of  England  to  which  they  ro- 
Horted  for  her  health. 

From  the  early  age  of  seven  she  commenced  keeping 
i  journal,  which  was  continued  with  scarce  any  inter- 
mission throughout  her  life.  In  1825  she  visited  Oxford, 
Cheltenham,  Gloucester,  Worcester,  Ross,  and  Bath; 
and  though  at  that  time  but  nine  years  old,  her  father 
took  her  to  Gloucester  and  Worcester  cathedrals,  and 
also  to  see  a  porcelain  and  pin  manufactory,  &c.,  the 
attention  and  interest  she  displayed  on  these  occasions 
affording  convincing  proof  that  her  mind  was  alive  to 
appreciate  and  enjoy  what  was  thus  presented  to  her 
observation.  Before  she  had  completed  her  twelfth 
year,  she  ventured  to  try  her  powers  in  composition, 
and  wrote  a  little  drama,  called  Gustavus  Vasa,  never 
published,  and  only  here  recorded  as  being  the  first 
germ  of  what  was  afterward  to  become  the  ruling  pas- 
sion. 

In  September,  1828,  the  family  went  to  reside  in 
Devonshire  for  the  health  of  Mr.  Aguilar,  and  there  a 
strong  admiration  for  the  beauties  and  wonders  of  na- 
ture manifested  itself:  she  constantly  collected  shells, 
stones,  sea-weed,  mosses,  &c.,  in  her  daily  rambles; 
and,  not  satisfied  with  admiring  their  beauty,  sedu- 
lously procured  whatever  little  catechisms  or  other 
books  on  those  subjects  she  could  purchase  or  borrow, 
eagerly  endeavoring,  by  their  study,  to  increase  hei 
knowledge  of  then-  nature  and  properties. 

When  she  had  attained  the  age  of  fourteen,  her  fat]  ei 


MEMOIR  OF  GRACE  AGUILAR.  XI 

commenced  a  regular  course  of  instruction  for  his  child, 
by  reading  aloud  while  she  was  employed  in  drawing, 
needle-work,  &c.  History  was  selected,  that  being  the 
study  which  now  most  interested  her,  and  the  first  work 
chosen  was  Josephus. 

It  was  while  spending  a  short  time  at  Tavistock,  in 
1830,  that  the  beauty  of  the  surrounding  scenery  led 
her  to  express  her  thoughts  in  verse.  Several  small 
pieces  soon  followed  her  first  essay,  and  she  became 
extremely  fond  of  this  new  exercise  and  enjoyment  of 
her  opening  powers,  yet  her  mind  was  so  well  regulated 
that  she  never  permitted  herself  to  indulge  in  original 
composition  until  her  duties  and  her  studies  were  all 
performed.  \y 

Grace  Aguilar  was  extremely  fond  of  music  ;  she  had 
learned  the  piano  from  infancy,  and  in  1831  commenced 
the  harp.  She  sang  pleasingly,  preferring  English  songs, 
and  invariably  selecting  them  for  the  beauty  or  senti- 
ment of  the  words  ;  she  was  also  passionately  fond  of 
dancing,  and  her  cheerful,  lively  manners  in  the  society 
of  her  young  friends  would  scarcely  have  led  any  to 
imagine  how  deeply  she  felt  and  pondered  upon  the 
serious  and  solemn  subjects  which  afterward  formed  the 
labor  of  her  life.  She  seemed  to  enjoy  all,  to  enter  into 
all,  but  a  keen  observer  would  detect  the  hold  that 
sacred  and  holy  principle  ever  exercised  over  her  lightest 
act  and  gayest  hour.  A  sense  of  duty  was  apparent  in 
the  merest  trifle,  and  her  following  out  of  the  divine 
command  of  obedience  to  parents  was  only  equalled  by 
\\\e  unbounded  affection  she  felt  for  them.  A  wish  was 
once  expressed  by  her  mother  that  she  should  not  waltz, 
and  no  solicitation  could  afterward  tempt  her.  Her 
mother  also  required  her  to  read  sermons,  and  study 


*"  MEMOIR  OF  GRACE  AGUILAR. 

religion  and  the  Bible  regularly ;  this  was  readily  sub 
mitted  to,  first  as  a  task,  but  afterward  with  much  de- 
light ;  for  evidence  of  which  we  cannot  do  better  than 
-[note  her  own  words,  in  one  of  her  religious  works  : 

"  This  formed  into  a  habit,  and  persevered  in  for  a 
life,  would  in  time,  and  without  labor  or  weariness,  give 
the  comfort  and  the  knowledge  that  we  seek  ;  each  year 
it  would  become  lighter  and  more  blessed;  each  year 
we  should  discover  something  we  knew  not  before,  and, 
in  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death,  feel  to  our  heart's 
core  that  the  Lord  our  God  is  Truth."  * 

Nor  did  Grace  Aguilar  only  study  religion  for  her  own 
personal  obsei-vance  and  profit.  She  embraced  its  prin- 
ciples (the  principles  of  all  creeds)  in  a  widely-extended 
and  truly  liberal  sense.  She  carried  her  practice  of  its 
holy  and  benevolent  precepts  into  every  minutiaB  of  hei 
daily  life,  doing  all  the  good  her  limited  means  would 
allow,  finding  time  in  the  midst  of  her  own  studies,  and 
most  varied  and  continual  occupations,  to  work  for  and 
instruct  her  poor  neighbors  in  the  country,  and,  while 
steadily  venerating  and  adhering  to  her  own  faith,  nei- 
ther inquiring  nor  heeding  the  religious  opinions  of  the 
needy  whom  she  succored  or  consoled.  To  be  permit- 
ted to  help  and  comfort  she  considered  a  privilege  and 
a  pleasure  ;  she  left  the  rest  to  God  ;  and  thus,  bestow- 
ing and  receiving  blessings  and  smiles  from  all  who  had 
the  opportunity  of  knowing  her,  her  young  life  flowed 
on  in  an  almost  uninterrupted  stream  of  enjoyment, 
until  she  had  completed  her  nineteenth  year. 

Alas  !  the  scene  was  soon  to  change,  and  trials  await- 
ed that  spirit  which,  in  the  midst  of  sunshine,  had  sn 

*  \\'v»ien  of  Israel,  vol.  ii.  p.  43 


MEMOIR  OF  GRACE  AGUILAK.  xiii 

oeautifully  striven  to  prepare  itself  a  shelter  froir  the 
storm.  The  two  brothers  of  Miss  Aguilar,  whom  she 
tenderly  loved,  left  the  paternal  roof  to  be  placed  far 
from  their  family  at  school.  Her  mother's  health  neces- 
sitated a  painful  and  dangerous  operation;  and  from 
that  time,  for  several  years,  alternate  hopes  and  fears, 
through  long  and  dreary  watchings  beside  the  sick-bed 
of  that  beloved  mother,  became  the  portion  of  her  gifted 
child.  But  even  this  depressing  and  arduous  change  in 
the  duties  of  her  existence  did  not  suspend  her  literary 
pursuits  and  labors.  She  profited  by  all  the  intervals 
she  could  command,  and  wrote  the  tale  of  the  "  Martyr," 
the  "  Spirit  of  Judaism,"  and  "  Israel  Defended,"  the 
latter  translated  from  the  French,  at  the  earnest  request 
of  a  friend,  and  printed  only  for  private  circulation. 
The  "  Magic  Wreath,"  a  little  poetical  work,  and  the 
first  our  authoress  ever  published,  dedicated  to  the 
Right  Honorable  the  Countess  of  Munster,  also  ap- 
peared about  this  time. 

In  the  spring  of  1835,  Grace  Aguilar  was  attacked 
with  measles,  and  never  afterward  recovered  her  pre- 
vious state  of  health,  suffering  at  intervals  with  such 
exhausting  feelings  of  weakness  as  to  become,  without 
any  visible  disease,  really  alarming. 

The  medical  attendants  recommended  entire  rest  of 
mind  and  body  ;  she  visited  the  sea,  and  seemed  a  little 
revived,  but  anxieties  were  gathering  around  her  horizon, 
to  which  it  became  evidently  impossible  her  ardent  and 
active  mind  could  remain  passive  or  indifferent,  and 
which  recalled  every  feeling,  every  energy  of  her  im- 
pressible nature  into  action.  Her  elder  brother,  who 
had  long  chosen  music  a&  his  profession,  was  sent  to 
Germany  1o  pursue  his  studies  ;  the  younger  determined 


*iv  MEMOIR  OF  GRACE  AGUILAR. 

upon  entering  the  sea-service.  The  excitement  of  these 
changes,  and  the  parting  with  both,  was  highly  injurious 
to  their  affectionate  sister ;  and  her  delight,  a  few  months 
after,  at  welcoming  the  sailor  boy  returned  from  his 
(irst  voyage,  with  all  his  tales  of  danger  and  adventure, 
and  his  keen  enjoyment  of  the  path  of  life  he  had  chosen, 
together  with  her  struggles  to  do  her  utmost  to  share 
his  walks  and  companionship,  contributed  yet  more  to 
impair  her  inadequate  strength. 

The  second  parting  was  scarcely  over  ere  her  father, 
who  had  long  shown  symptoms  of  failing  health,  became 
the  victim  of  consumption.  He  breathed  his  last  in  her 
arms  ;  and  the  daughter,  while  sorrowing  over  all  she 
had  lost,  roused  herself  once  more  to  the  utmost,  feeling 
that  she  was  the  sole  comforter  beside  her  remaining 
parent.  Soon  after,  when  her  brother  again  returned, 
finding  the  death  of  his  father,  he  resolved  not  to  make 
his  third  voyage  as  a  midshipman,  but  endeavor  to  pro- 
cure some  employment  sufficiently  lucrative  to  prevent 
his  remaining  a  burden  upon  his  widowed  mother. 
Long  and  anxiously  did  he  pursue  this  object,  his  sister, 
whose  acquaintance  with  literary  and  talented  persons 
had  greatly  increased,  using  all  her  energy  and  influence 
in  his  behalf,  and  concentrating  all  the  enthusiastic  feel- 
ings of  her  nature  in  inspiring  him  with  patience,  com- 
fort, and  hope,  as  often  as  they  failed  him  under  his 
repeated  disappointments.  At  length  his  application 
was  taken  up  by  a  powerful  friend,  for  her  sake  ;  she 
had  the  happiness  of  succeeding,  and  saw  him  depart 
at  the  very  summit  of  his  wishes.  Repose,  which  had 
been  so  long  necessary,  seemed  now  at  hand ;  but  hei 
nerves  had  been  too  long  and  too  repeatedly  overstrung, 
and  when  this  task  was  done  the  worn  and  weary  spiril 


MK.MOIR   OF   GRACE  AGUILAI,'.  XV 

:ould  sustain  no  more,  and  sank  under  the  labor  that 
had  been  imposed  upon  it. 

Severe  illness  followed  ;  and  though  it  yielded,  after 
a  time,  to  skilful  remedies  and  tender  care,  her  exces- 
sive languor  and  severe  headaches  continued  to  givo 
her  family  and  friends  great  uneasiness. 

During  all  these  demands  upon  her  time,  her  thoughts, 
and  her  health,  however,  the  ruling  passion  neither 
slumbered  nor  slept.  She  completed  the  Jewish  Faith, 
and  also  prepared  Home  Influence  for  the  press,  though 
very  unfit  to  have  taxed  her  powers  so  far.  Her  rnedicai 
attendant  became  urgent  for  total  change  of  air  and 
trcene,  and  again  strongly  interdicted  all  mental  exer- 
tion ;  a  trip  to  Frankfort,  to  visit  her  elder  brother,  was 
therefore  decided  on.  In  June,  1847,  she  set  out,  ana 
bore  the  journey  without  suffering  nearly  so  much  as 
might  have  been  expected.  Her  hopes  were  high,  her 
spirits  raised ;  the  novelty  and  interest  of  her  first  travels 
on  the  Continent  gave  her,  for  a  very  transient  period, 
a  gleam,  as  it  were,  of  strength.  For  a  week  or  two 
she  appeared  to  rally  ;  then,  again,  every  exertion  be- 
came too  much  for  her,  every  stimulating  remedy  seem- 
ed to  exhaust  her.  She  was  ordered  from  Frankfort  to 
try  the  baths  and  mineral  waters  of  Schwalbach,  but 
without  success.  After  a  stay  of  six  weeks,  and  perse- 
vering with  exemplary  patience  in  the  treatment  pre- 
scribed, she  was  one  night  seized  with  alarming  convul- 
sive spasms,  so  terrible  that  her  family  removed  her  the 
next  morning  with  all  speed  back  to  Frankfort,  to  the 
house  Df  a  family  of  most  kind  friends,  where  every  at- 
tention and  care  was  lavishly  bestowed. 

In  viin.  She  took  to  her  bed  the  very  day  of  hei 
arrival,  and  never  rose  from  it  again;  she  became  dailv 


svi  MEMOIR  OF  GRACE  AGU1LAR. 

weaker,  and  in  three  weeks  from  that  time  her  sufferings 
ceased  forever.  She  was  perfectly  conscious  to  within 
less  than  two  hours  before  her  death,  and  took  an  affec- 
tionate leave  of  her  mother  and  brother.  Speech  had 
been  a  matter  of  difficulty  for  some  time  previous,  her 
throat  being  greatly  affected  by  her  malady ;  but  she 
had,  in  consequence,  learned  to  use  her  fingers  in  the 
manner  of  the  deaf  and  dumb,  and  almost  the  last  time 
they  moved  it  was  to  spell  upon  them,  feebly,  "  Though 
He  slay  me,  yet  will  I  trust  in  Him." 

She  was  buried  in  the  cemetery  of  Frankfort,  one  of 
which  is  set  apart  for  the  people  of  her  faith.  The  stone 
which  marks  the  spot  bears  upon  it  a  butterfly  and  five 
stars,  emblematic  of  the  soul  in  heaven,  and  beneath 
appears  the  inscription, 

"  GIVE   HER   OF     THE   FRUIT  OF   HER   HANDS,   AUD    LET   IIKI!   OWN 
WOKKS  PRAISE    II KR    IX   THE   GATES." 

Prov.  ch.  xxvi.  v.  31. 

And  thus,  16th  of  September,  1847,  at  the  early  age 
of  thirty-one,  Grace  Aguilar  was  laid  to  rest ;  the  bowl 
was  broken,  the  silver  cord  was  loosed.  Her  life  was 
short,  and  checkered  with  pain  and  anxiety,  but  she 
strove  hard  to  make  it  useful  and  valuable,  by  employ- 
ing diligently  and  faithfully  the  talents  with  which  she 
had  been  endowed.  Nor  did  the  serious  view  with 
which  she  ever  regarded  earthly  existence  induce  her  to 
neglect  or  despise  any  occasion  of  enjoyment,  advan- 
tage, or  sociality  which  presented  itself.  Her  heart  was 
ever  open  to  receive,  her  hand  to  give. 

Inasmuch  as  she  succeeded  to  the  satisfaction  of  her 
fellow-beings,  let  them  be  grateful ;  inasmuch  as  she 
failed,  let  those  who  perceive  it  deny  her  not  the  meed 


MfcMOIK  OF  GRACE  AGUILAR.  xvii 

of  praise  for  her  endeavor  to  open  the  path  she  believeu 
would  lead  mankind  to  practical  virtue  and  happiness, 
and  strive  to  carry  out  the  pure  philanthropic  principles 
by  which  she  was  actuated,  and  which  she  so  earnestly 
endeavored  to  diffuse.  . 


/ 


CONTENTS . 


PART  I. 

THE     SISTERS. 

CKaptur  '-'^ 

I. —  A  Launch  —  A  Promise  —  A  new  Relation.  1 

II.  —  Glimpses  into  a  Child's  Heart  —  A  Death-bed       .        .  8 

III.  —  Retrospection  —  The  Lowly  sought  —  The  Haughty  foiled     20 

IV.  —  Retrospective  —  Effects    of   Coquetry — Obedience  and 

Disobedience         .  .....  27 

V. —  A  Heart  and  Home  in  England  —  A  Heart  and  Home 

in  India     .........  40 

VI. —  Domestic  Discord,  and  its  End 48 


PART   II. 

TRAITS      OF     CHARACTER. 

i.  —  Youthful  Colloquy  —  Introducing  Character       .  58 

II.  —  Three  English  Homes,  and  their  Inmates        .        .  68 

III.  —  Home  Scene  —  Visitors  —  Childish  Meditations          .  76 

IV.— Varieties 8£ 

V.  —  A  Young  Gentleman  in  a  Passion  —  A  Walk  —  A  Scent 

of  Distress 97 

VI.  —  Cecil  Grahame's  Philosophy  —  An  Error,  and  its  Cons"- 

s  —  A  Mystery  and  a  Confidence               .  10£ 


SX  CONTEXTS. 

Cl  upter  .  t'apt 

VIL  —  Mr.  Morton's  Story —  A  Confession  —  A  young  Pleader 

—  Generosity  not  always  Justice      .         .         .         .115 

VIII.  —  An  unpleasant   Proposal  —  The  Mystery   Solved  —  A 
Father's  Grief  from  a  Mother's  Weakness  —  A  Fa- 
ther's Joy  from  a  Mother's  Influence     .        .        .         124 
IX.  —  Temptation  and  Disobedience  —  Fear —  Falsehood  and 

Punishment     ....  ...     136 

X.  —  Pain  and  Penitence  —  Truth  Impressed,  and  Reconcilia- 
tion—  The  Family-tree        .         .        .        .        .         '.46 

XL  — The  Children's  Ball 163 

XII. —  Effects  of  Pleasure  —  The  young  Midshipman  —  Ill-tem- 
per, its  Origin  and  Consequences          .        .         .         180 
XIII. —  Suspicion  —  A  Parting,  a  double   Grief — Innocence 

proved  —  Wrong  done  and  Evil  confirmed  by  Doubt     19  i 


PART  III. 

SIN     AND     SUFFERING. 

I.  —  Advance  and  Retrospect           212 

II.  —  A  Letter,  and  its  Consequences   ....  2C6 

III.  —  A  Summons  and  a  Loss            238 

IV.  — The  broken  Desk 250 

V.  —  The  Culprit  and  the  Judge 265 

VI.  —  The  Sentence,  and  its  Execution          .        .        .  ^78 

VII.  —  The  Light  glimmers 294 

VELI.  — The  Struggle 303 

IX.  —  Illness  and  Remorse 314 

X.  —  Mistaken  Impressions  eradicated           .        .        .  324 

XL  —  The  Loss  of  the  Siren                334 

XII.  —  Forebodings          . 341 

XIII.  —  Forgiveness               351 

XIV.  —  The  Rich  and  the  Poor 360 

XV.  —  A  Home  Scene,  and  a  Parting          .        •        .        .  370 

X  VI.  —  The  Birthdav  Gift  389 


HOME    INFLUENCE 


PART    I. 
THE    SISTERS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

A    LAUNCH. A    PROMISE. A    NEW    RELATION. 

IN  a  very  beautiful  part  of  Wales,  between  the  northern 
boundaries  of  Glamorgan  and  the  south-eastern  oi  Carmarthen- 
shire, there  stood,  some  twenty  or  thirty  years  ago,  a  small 
straggling  village.  Its  locality  was  so  completely  concealed 
that  the  appearance  of  a  gentleman's  carriage,  or,  in  fact,  any 
vehicle  superior  to  a  light  spring-cart,  was  of  such  extremely 
rare  occurrence  as  to  be  dated,  in  the  annals  of  Llangwillan,  as 
a  remarkable  event,  providing  the  simple  villagers  with  amus- 
ing wonderment  for  weeks. 

The  village  was  scattered  over  the  side  of  a  steep  and  rug- 
ged hill ;  and  on  the  east,  emerging  from  a  thick  hedge  of  yews 
and  larches,  peeped  forth  the  picturesque  old  church,  whose 
tin-coated  spire,  glittering  in  the  faintest  sunshine,  removed  all 
appearance  of  gloom  from  the  thick  trees,  and  seemed  to  whis- 
per, whatever  darkness  lingered  round,  light  was  always  shin- 
ing there.  The  churchyard,  which  the  yews  and  larches  screen- 
ed, was  a  complete  natural  garden,  from  the  lowly  cottage 
iiowers,  planted  by  loving  hands  over  many  a  grassy  grave,  and 
so  hallowed  that  not  a  child  would  pluck  them,  however  tempt- 
ed by  theif  luxuriance  and  beauty.  A  pretty  cottage,  whose 
white  walls  were  covered  with  jasmine,  roses,  and  honeysuckle, 
marked  the  humble  residence  of  the  village  minister,  who 


X  HOME   INFLUENCE. 

though  in  worldly  rank  only  a  poor  curate,  from  his  spiritual 
gifts  deserved  a  much  higher  grade. 

A  gurgling  stream  ran  leaping  and  sparkling  over  the  craggy 
hill  till  it  formed  a  deep,  wide  bed  for  itself  along  the  road  lead- 
ing to  the  nearest  town,  embanked  on  one  side  by  a  tall  leaf} 
hedge,  and  on  the  other  by  rich  grass  and  meadow  flcwers.  B} 
the  side  of  this  stream  groups  of  village  children  were  continu- 
ally found,  sometimes  reaching  for  some  particular  flower  or 
insect,  or  floating  pieces  of  wood  with  a  twig  stuck  upright 
within  them  as  tiny  fleets  ;  but  this  amusement  had  given  place 
the  last  ten  days  to  the  greater  excitement  of  watching  the  pro- 
gress of  a  miniature  frigate,  the  workmanship  of  a  young  lad 
who  had  only  very  lately  become  an  inmate  of  the  village.  All 
had  been  at  length  completed,  sails,  ropes,  and  masts,  with  a 
degree  of  neatness  and  beauty,  showing  not  only  ingenuity  but 
observation  ;  and  one  lovely  summer  evening  the  ceremony  of 
launching  took  place.  For  a  few  minutes  she  tottered  and 
reeled  amid  the  tiny  breakers,  then  suddenly  regained  her  equi- 
librium and  dashed  gallantly  along.  A  loud  shout  burst  from 
the  group,  from  all  save  the  owner,  a  beautiful  boy  of  some 
twelve  years,  who  contented  himself  with  raising  his  slight 
Hgure  to  its  full  height,  and  looking  proudly  and  triumphantly 
round  him.  One  glance  would  suffice  to  satisfy  that  his  rank 
in  life  was  far  superior  to  that  of  his  companions,  and  that  he 
condescended  from  circumstances,  not  from  choice,  to  mingle 
with  them.  So  absorbed  was  the  general  attention  that  the 
very  unusual  sound  of  carriage-wheels  was  unremarked  until 
close  beside  them,  and  then  so  astounding  was  the  sight  of  a 
private  carriage  and  the  coachman's  very  simple  question  if 
that  road  led  to  the  village,  that  all  hung  back  confused.  The 
owner  of  the  little  vessel,  however,  answered  proudly  and 
briefly  in  the  affirmative.  "And  can  you  direct  me,  my  good 
boy,"  inquired  a  lady,  looking  from  the  window,  and  smiling 
kindly  at  the  abashed  group,  "  to  the  residence  of  Mrs.  For- 
tescue.  It  is  out  of  the  village,  is  it  not  ?  " 

"  Mrs.  Fortescue ! "  repeated  the  boy  eagerly  and  gladly, 
and  his  cap  was  off  his  head  in  a  moment,  and  the  bright  sun- 
shine streamed  on  a  face  of  such  remarkable  beauty,  and  withal 
so  familiar,  that  though  the  lady  bent  eagerly  forward  to 
address  him,  emotion  so  choked  her  voice  that  the  lad  was 
enabled  to  reply  to  her  inquiry,  and  direct  the  coachman  to  the 
only  inn  of  the  village,  and  they  had  driven  off,  before  words 
returned. 

The  I  <>y  looked  eagerly  after  them,  then  desiring  one  of  bib 


HOME    INFLUENCE  3 

jumpanions  to  meet  the  lady  at  the  mn,  and  guide  her  to  the 
cottage,  caught,  up  his  little  vessel,  and  darted  off  across  some 
fields  which  led  by  a  shorter  cut  to  the  same  place. 

It  was  a  very  humble  dwelling,  so  surrounded  by  hills  that 
their  shadow  always  seemed  to  overhang  it :  yet  within,  the 
happy  temper  of  a  poor  widow  and  her  daughter  kept  up  a 
perpetual  sunshine.  Three  weeks  previous  to  the  evening  we 
have  mentioced,  a  lady  and  two  children  had  arrived  at  Liang- 
willan,  unable  to  proceed  farther  from  the  severe  indisposi- 
tion of  the  former.  They  were  unattended,  and  the  driver  only 
knew  that  their  destination  was  Swansea ;  he  believed  they 
had  been  shipwrecked  off  Pembroke,  and  that  the  poor  lady 
was  very  ill  when  she  commenced  her  journey,  but  the  curious 
inquiries  of  the  villagers  could  elicit  nothing  more.  Mr.  Myr- 
vin,  with  characteristic  benevolence,  devoted  himself  to  insur- 
ing, as  far  as  he  could,  the  comfort  of  the  invalid ;  had  her 
removed  from  the  inn  to  Widow  Morgan's  cottage,  confident 
that  there  she  would  at  least  be  nursed  with  tenderness  and 
care,  and  so  near  him  as  to  permit  his  constant  watchfulness. 
But  a  very  few  days  too  sadly  convinced  him,  not  only  that  her 
disease  was  mortal,  but  that  his  presence  and  gentle  accents 
irritated  instead  of  soothed.  Ill-temper  and  self-will  seemed  to 
increase  with  the  weakness,  which  every  day  rendered  her 
longing  to  continue  her  journey  more  and  more  futile.  It  was 
some  days  before  she  could  even  be  persuaded  to  write  to  the 
relative  she  was  about  to  seek,  so  determined  was  she  that  she 
would  get  well ;  and  when  the  letter  was  forwarded,  and  long 
before  an  answer  could  have  been  received  (for  twenty  years 
ago  there  were  no  railroads  to  carry  on  epistolary  communica- 
tion as  now,)  fretfuhiess  and  despondency  increased  physical 
suffering,  by  the  determined  conviction  that  she  was  abandon- 
ed, her  children  would  be  left  uncared  for.  In  vain  Mr.  Myr- 
vin  assured  her  of  the  impossibility  yet  to  receive  a  reply,  that 
the  direction  might  not  even  have  been  distinct  enough,  for  her 
memory  had  failed  her  in  dictating  it ;  she  knew  she  was  de- 
serted, she  might  have  deserved  it,  but  her  Edward  was  inno- 
cent, and  it  was  very  hard  on  him.  As  self-will  subsided  in 
physical  exhaustion,  misery  increased.  A  restless  torturing 
/einembrance  seemed  to  have  taken  possession  of  her,  which  all 
the  efforts  of  the  earnest  clergyman  were  utterly  ineffectual  to 
remove.  She  would  not  listen  to  the  peace  he  proffered,  and 
so  painfully  did  his  gentle  eloquence  appear  to  irritate  instead 
»f  calm,  that  he  desisted,  earnestly  praying,  that  her  sister 
might  answer  the  letter  in  person,  and  by  removing  ai?  ciety 
nrr.pare  the  mind  for  better  thoughts. 


flOME  INFLUENCE. 

One  object  alone  had  power  to  bring  something  like  a  smilt? 
tc  that  altered  but  still  most  beautiful  countenance,  conquei 
even  irritation,  and  still  create  intervals  of  pleasure  —  it  was 
her  son,  the  same  beautiful  boy  we  have  already  noticed,  and 
whose  likeness  to  herself  was  so  extraordinary  that  it  would 
have  been  almost  too  feminine  a  beauty,  had  it  not  been  foi 
the  sparkling  animated  expression  of  every  feature,  and  the 
manly  self-possession  which  characterized  his  every  movement. 
That  he  should  be  his  mother's  idol  was  not  very  surprising, 
for  the  indiscreet  and  lavish  indulgence  which  had  been  his 
from  birth,  had  not  yet  had  power  to  shake  his  doating  fond- 
ness for  his  mother,  or  interfere  with  her  happiness  by  the 
visible  display  of  the  faults  which  her  weakness  had  engender- 
ed. Caressingly  affectionate,  open-hearted,  generous,  and  ever 
making  her  his  first  object,  perhaps  even  a  more  penetrating 
mother  would  have  seen  nothing  to  dread  but  all  to  love.  His 
uncontrolled  passion  at  the  slightest  cross,  his  haughty  pride 
and  indomitable  will  toward  all  save  her,  but  increased  her 
affection.  And  when  he  was  with  her,  which  he  was  very 
often,  considering  that  a  sick  close  room  would  have  been  utterly 
repugnant  to  him  had  it  not  contained  his  mother,  Mrs.  Fortes- 
cue  was  actually  happy.  But  it  was  a  happiness  only  increas- 
ing her  intensity  of  suffering  when  her  son  was  absent.  Hide 
It  from  herself  as  she  might,  the  truth  would  press  upon  her 
that  she  was  dying,  and  her  darling  must  be  left  to  the  care  of 
relations  indeed,  but  utter  strangers  to  him,  and  unlikely  to 
treat  him  as  she  had  done.  She  knew  that  he  had,  what  strict 
disciplinarians,  as  she  chose  to  regard  her  sister  and  her  hus- 
band, would  term  and  treat  as  serious  faults,  while  she  felt 
them  actually  virtues  ;  and  agony  for  him  in  the  dread  of  what 
he  might  be  called  upon  to  endure,  would  deluge  her  pillow 
with  passionate  tears,  and  shake  her  slight  frame  as  with  con- 
vulsion. 

The  day  we  have  mentioned,  Edward  had  been  absent  longer 
than  usual,  and  toward  evening  Mrs.  Fortescue  awoke  from 
a  troubled  sleep  to  brood  over  these  thoughts,  till  they  had  pro- 
duced their  usual  effect  in  tears  and  sobs,  the  more  painful  to 
witness  from  the  increasing  physical  incapacity  to  struggle  with 
them. 

A  little  girl,  between  ten  and  eleven  years  old,  was  seated 
on  a  low  wooden  stool,  half  concealed  by  the  coarse  curtain  of 
the  bed,  employed  in  sewing  some  bright  gilt  buttons  on  a  blue 
jacket.  It  seemed  hard  work  for  those  small,  delicate  hands; 
lmt  she  did  not  look  up  from  her  task  till  roused  by  the  too 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  ft 

familiar  sound  of  her  mother's  suffering,  and  then,  as  she  raised 
her  head,  and  flung  back  the  heavy  and  somewhat  disordered 
ringlets,  the  impulse  seemed  to  he  to  spring  up  and  try  to  soothe, 
but  a  mournful  expression  quickly  succeeded,  and  she  sat  several 
minutes  without  moving.  At  length,  as  Mrs.  Fortescue's  sobs 
seemed  almost  to  suffocate  her,  the  child  gently  bent  over  her, 
saying,  very  timidly,  "  Dear  mamma,  shall  I  call  widow  Mor- 
gan, or  can  I  get  any  thing  for  you  ?  "  and,  without  waiting  for 
a  reply,  save  the  angry  negative  to  the  first  question,  she  held 
a  glass  of  water  to  her  mother's  lips  and  bathed  her  forehead. 
After  a  few  minutes  Mrs.  Fortescue  revived  sufficiently  to  in- 
quire where  Edward  was. 

"  He  has  gone  down  to  the  stream  to  launch  his  little  frigate, 
mamma,  and  asked  me  to  fasten  these  buttons  on  his  jacket,  to 
make  it  look  like  a  sailor's  meanwhile ;  I  do  not  think  he  will 
be  very  long  now." 

Mrs.  Fortescue  made  no  rejoinder,  except  to  utter  aloud  those 
thoughts  which  had  caused  her  previous  paroxysm,  and  her  little 
girl,  after  a  very  evident  struggle  with  her  own  painful  timidity, 
ventured  to  say: 

"  But  why  should  you  fear  so  much  for  Edward,  dear  mam- 
ma? Everybody  loves  him  and  admires  him,  so  I  am  sure  my 
aunt  and  uncle  will." 

"Your  aunt  may  for  my  sake,  but  she  will  not  love  or  bear 
with  his  childish  faults  as  I  have  done ;  and  your  uncle  is  such 
a  harsh,  stern  man,  that  there  is  little  hope  for  his  forbearance 
with  my  poor  Edward.  And  he  is  so  frank  and  bold,  he  will 
not  know  how  even  to  conceal  his  boyish  errors,  and  he  will  be 
punished,  and  his  fine  spirit  broken,  and  who  will  be  there  to 
shield  and  soothe  him !  " 

"imay  be  able  sometimes,  mamma,  and  indeed,  indeed,  I 
will  whenever  I  can,"  replied  her  child,  with  afft  cting  earnest- 
ness. "I  love  him  so  very,  very  much,  and  I  know  he  is  so 
much  better  than  I  am,  that  it  will  be  very  easy  to  help  him 
whenever  I  caii.'' 

"Will  you  promise  me,  Ellen,  will  you  really  promise  me  to 
shield  him,  and  save  him  from  harshness  whenever  it  is  in  your 
power,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Fortescue,  so  eagerly,  that  she  half 
raised  herself,  and  pressed  Ellen  to  her  with  an  appearance  ol 
affection  so  unusual,  and  a  kiss  so  warm,  that  that  moment  never 
passed  from  the  child's  mind,  and  the  promise  she  gave  was  re- 
gistered in  her  own  heart,  with  a  solemnity  and  firmness  of  pur 
pose  little  imagined  by  her  mother,  who,  when  she  demanded  it, 
conceived  neither  its  actual  purport  nor  extent ;  she  only  felt  rt; 
2 


o  HOME   INFLUENCE. 

lieved  that  Edward  would  have  some  one  by  him,  to  loro  him 
and  enable  him  to  conceal  his  errors,  if  he  should  commit  any. 

Had  she  studied  and  known  the  character  of  Ellen  as  she  did 
that  of  her  son,  that  promise  would  perhaps  never  have  been 
asked;  nor  would  she  so  incautiously  and  mistakenly  have  laid 
so  great  a  stress  upon  concealment,  as  the  only  sure  means  of 
guarding  from  blame.  From  her  childhood  Mrs.  Fortescue  had 
been  a  creature  of  passion  and  impulse,  and  maternity  had  un- 
happily not  altered  one  tittle  of  her  character.  In  what  man- 
ner, or  at  what  cost,  Ellen  might  be  enabled  to  keep  that  pro- 
mise, never  entered  her  mind.  It  had  never  been  her  wont, 
even  in  days  of  health,  to  examine  or  reflei.t,  and  present  weak- 
ness permitted  only  the  morbid  indulgence  of  one  exaggerated 
thought. 

For  several  minutes  she  lay  quite  silent,  and  Ellen  resumed 
her  seat  and  work,  her  temples  throbbing,  she  knew  not  why, 
and  a  vain  longing  to  throw  her  arms  round  her  mother's  neck, 
and  entreat  her  only  for  one  more  kiss,  one  other  word  of  love  ; 
and  the  consciousness  that  she  dared  not,  caused  the  hot  tears 
to  rush  into  her  eyes,  and  almost  blind  her,  but  she  would  not 
let  them  fall,  for  she  had  learned  long  ago,  that  while  Edward's 
tears  only  excited  soothing  and  caresses,  hers  always  called 
forth  irritation  and  reproof. 

"Joy,  joy!  Mother,  darling!"  exclaimed  an  eager  voice, 
some  minutes  afterward,  and  Edward  bounded  into  the  room, 
and  throwing  himself  by  his  mother's  side,  kissed  her  pale  cheek 
again  and  again.  "Such  joy!  My  ship  sailed  so  beautifully,  I 
quite  longed  for  you  to  see  it,  and  you  will  one  day  Avhen  you 
get  well  and  strong  again  ;  and  I  know  you  will  soon  now,  for  I 
am  sure  aunt  Emmeline  will  very  soon  come,  and  then,  then, 
you  will  be  so  happy,  and  we  shall  all  be  happy  again ! " 

Mrs.  Fortescue  pressed  him  closer  and  closer  to  her,  return- 
ing his  kisses  with  such  passionate  fondness,  that  tears  mingled 
with  them,  and  fell  upon  his  cheek. 

"Don't  cry,  mamma,  dear!  indeed,  indeed,  my  aunt  will  soon 
come.  Do  you  know  I  think  I  have  seen  her  and  spoken  to 
her  too?" 

"  Seen  her,  Edward?  You  mean  you  have  dreamed  about 
her,  and  so  fancy  you  have  seen  her;"  but  the  eager,  anxious 
look  she  fixed  upon  him  evinced  more  hope  than  her  words. 

"No,  no,  mamma;  as  we  were  watching  my  ship,  a  carriage 
passed  us,  and  a  lady  spoke  to  me,  and  asked  me  the  way  to 
the  cottage  whei-3  yoi.  li\ed,  and  I  am  ^ure  it  is  auntEmmeHne 
from  her  smile." 


HOME    INFLUENCE.  7 

"It  cannot  be,"  murmured  his  mother,  sadly;  "unless — " 
and  her  countenance  brightened.  "  Did  she  speak  to  you,  Ed- 
ward, as  if  she  knew  you,  recognized  you,  from  your  likeness 
to  me?" 

"  No,  mamma,  there  was  no  time,  the  carriage  drove  off  again 
so  quickly ;  but,  hush !  I  am  sure  I  hear  her  voice  down  stairs, 
pud  he  sprung  up  from  the  bed  and  listened  eagerly.  "Yes. 
yes,  I  am  right,  and  she  is  coming  up ;  no,  it's  only  widow 
Morgan,  but  I  am  sure  it  is  my  aunt  by  your  face,"  he  added, 
impatiently,  as  Mrs.  Morgan  tried  by  signs  to  beg  him  to  be 
more  cautious,  and  not  to  agitate  his  mother.  "Why  don't  you 
let  her  come  up  ?  "  and  springing  down  the  whole  flight  of  stairs 
in  two  bounds,  he  rushed  into  the  little  parlor,  caught  hold  of 
the  lady's  dress,  and  exclaimed,  "You  are  my  aunt,  my  own 
dear  aunt;  do  come  up  to  mamma,  she  has  been  wanting  you 
so  long,  so  very  long,  and  you  will  make  her  well,  dear  aunt, 
will  you  not  ?  " 

"  Oh,  that  I  may  be  allowed  to  do  so,  dear  boy ! "  was  the 
painfully  agitated  reply,  and  she  hastened  up  the  stairs. 

But  to  Edward's  grief  and  astonishment,  so  little  was  he  con- 
scious of  his  mother's  exhausted  state,  the  sight  of  his  aunt,  pre- 
pared in  some  measure  as  she  was,  seemed  to  bring  increase  of 
suffering  instead  of  joy.  There  was  a  convulsive  effort  for 
speech,  a  passionate  return  of  her  sister's  embrace,  and  she  faint- 
ed. Edward  in  terror  flung  himself  beside  her,  entreating  her 
not  to  look  so  pale,  but  to  wake  and  speak  to  him.  Ellen,  with 
a  quickness  and  decision,  which  even  at  that  moment  caused  her 
aunt  to  look  at  her  with  astonishment,  applied  the  usual  restor- 
atives, evincing  no  unusual  alarm,  and  a  careless  observer  might 
have  said,  no  feeling;  but  it  was  only  a  momentary  thought 
which  Mrs.  Hamilton  could  give  to  Ellen,  every  feeling  was  en- 
grossed in  the  deep  emotion  with  which  she  gazed  on  the  faded 
form  and  altered  face  of  that  still  beloved  though  erring  one ; 
who,  when  she  had  last  beheld  her,  thirteen  years  previous,  was 
bright,  buoyant,  lovely  as  the  boy  beside  them.  Her  voice  yet, 
more  than  the  proffered  remedies,  seemed  to  recall  life,  and 
after  a  brief  interval  the  choking  thought  found  words. 

"  My  father !  my  father !  Oh,  Emmeline  I  know  that  he  is 
dead !  My  disobedience,  my  ingratitude  for  all  his  too  indul- 
gent love,  killed  him  —  I  know  it  did.  But  did  he  curse  me, 
Emmeline  ?  did  all  his  love  turn  to  wrath,  as  it  ought  to  have 
lone?  did  —  " 

"  Dearest  Eleanor,"  replied  Mrs.  Hamilton,  with  earnest 
tenderness,  "dismiss  such  painful  thoughts  atorcc;  our  pon 


8  HOME   INFLUENCE. 

father  did  feel  your  conduct  deeply,  but  he  foigave  it,  would 
have  received  your  husband,  caressed,  loved  you  as  before,  hswi 
you  but  returned  to  him ;  and  so  loved  you  to  the  last  moment, 
that  your  name  was  the  last  word  upon  his  lips.  But  this  is  no 
subject  for  such  youthful  auditors,"  she  continued,  interrupting 
herself,  as  she  met  Edward's  bright  eyes  fixed  wonderingly 
upon  her  face,  and  noticed  the  excessive  paleness  of  Ellen's 
cheek.  "You  look  weary,  my  love,"  she  said,  kindly,  drawing 
her  niece  to  her,  and  affectionately  kissing  her.  "  Edward  has 
made  his  own  acquaintance  with  me,  why  did  you  not  do  so 
too?  But  go  now  into  the  garden  for  a  little  while,  I  am  sure 
you  want  fresh  air,  and  I  will  take  your  place  as  nurse  mean- 
while. Will  you  trust  me?" 

And  the  kind  smile  which  accompanied  her  words  gave  Ellen 
courage  to  return  her  kiss,  but  she  left  the  room  without  speak- 
ing. Edward  required  more  persuasion ;  and  the  moment  he 
was  permitted  he  returned,  seated  himself  on  a  stool  at  his  aunt's 
feet,  laid  his  head  on  her  lap,  and  remained  for  nearly  an  hour 
quite  silent,  watching  with  her  the  calm  slumbers  which  had 
followed  the  agitating  conversation  between  them.  Mrs.  Hamil- 
ton was  irresistibly  attracted  toward  him,  and  rather  wondered 
that  Ellen  should  stay  away  so  long.  She  did  not  know  that 
Edward  had  spent  almost  the  whole  of  that  day  in  the  joyous 
sports  natural  to  his  age,  and  that  it  had  been  many  weary  days 
and  nights  since  Ellen  had  quitted  her  mother's  room. 


CHAPTER    II. 

GLIMPSES    INTO    A    CHILD'S    HEART. A    DEATHBED. 

ON  leaving  the  cottage,  Ellen  hastily  traversed  the  little 
garden,  and  entered  a  narrow  lane,  leading  to  Mr.  Myrvin's 
dwelling.  Her  little  heart  was  swelling  high  within  her,  and 
the  confinement  she  had  endured,  the  constant  control  sho  exer- 
cised for  fear  she  should  add  to  her  mother's  irritation,  com- 
bined with  the  extreme  delicacy  of  natural  constitution,  had  so 
weakened  her  as  to  render  the  slightest  exertion  painful.  Sho 
had  been  so  often  reproved  as  fretful  and  ill-tempered,  when- 
ever in  tears,  that  she  always  checked  and  concealed  thorn. 
She  had  been  so  frequently  told  that  she  did  not  know  what 


HUME    INFLUENCE.  1J 

affection  \\as,  tl'at  she  was  so  inanimate  and  cold,  that  though 
she  did  not  understand  the  actual  meaning  of  the  wc~ds,  she 
believed  she  was  different  to  any  one  else,  and  was  unhappy 
without  knowing  why.  Compared  with  her  brother,  she  cer- 
tainly was  neither  a  pretty  nor  an  engaging  child.  Weakly 
rrom  her  birth,  her  residence  in  India  had  increased  constitu- 
tional delicacy,  and  while  to  a  watchful  eye  the  expression  of 
her  countenance  denoted  constant  suffering,  the  heedless  and 
superficial  observer  would  condemn  it  as  peevishness,  and  so 
unnatural  to  a  young  child,  that  nothing  but  confirmed  ill- 
temper  could  have  produced  it.  The  soft,  beautifully -formed 
black  eye  was  too  large  for  her  other  features,  and  the  sallow- 
ness  of  her  complexion,  the  heavy  tresses  of  very  dark  hair, 
caused  her  to  be  remarked  as  a  very  plain  child,  which  in 
reality  she  was  not.  Accustomed  to  hear  beauty  extolled 
above  every  thing  else,  beholding  it  in  her  mother  and  brother, 
and  imagining  it  was  Edward's  great  beauty  that  always  made 
him  so  beloved  and  petted,  an  evil-disposed  child  would  have 
felt  nothing  but  envy  and  dislike  toward  him.  But  Ellen  felt 
neither.  She  loved  him  devotedly ;  but  that  any  one  could 
love  her,  now  that  the  only  one  who  ever  had,  —  her  idolized 
father,  —  was  dead,  she  thought  impossible. 

Why  her  heart  and  temples  beat  so  quickly  as  she  left  her 
mother's  room  —  why  the  promise  she  had  so  lately  made 
should  so  cling  to  her  mind,  that  even  her  aunt's  arrival  could 
not  remove  it  —  why  she  felt  so  giddy  and  weak  as  to  render 
walking  painful,  the  poor  child  could  not  have  told,  but,  unable 
at  length  to  go  farther,  she  sat  down  on  a  grassy  bank,  and 
believing  herself  quite  alone,  cried  bitterly.  Several  minutes 
passed  and  she  did  not  look  up,  till  a  well-known  voice  in- 
quired, — 

"  Dear  Ellen,  what  is  the  matter  ?  What  has  happened  to 
grieve  you  so  to-day  ?  won't  you  tell  me  ?  " 

"  Indeed,  indeed,  I  do  not  know,  dear  Arthur  ;  I  only  feel  — 
feel  —  as  if  I  had  not  so  much  strength  as  I  had  a  few  days 
ago  —  and,  and  I  could  not  help  crying." 

"  You  are  not  well,  Ellen,"  replied  her  companion,  a  fine  lad 
of  sixteen,  and  Mr.  Myrvin's  only  son.  "You  are  looking 
paler  than  I  ever  saw  you  before  ;  let  me  call  my  father.  You 
know  he  is  always  pleased  when  he  sees  you,  and  he  hoped 
you  would  have  been  to  us  before  to-day ;  come  with  me  to 
him  now." 

"No,  Arthur,  indeed  I  cannot;  he  will  think  1  have  forgot 
ten  all  he  said  to  me  the  last  time  I  saw  him,  and,  indeed,  I 


10  HOME   INFLUENCE. 

have  not —  but  I  —  I  do  not  know  what  is  the  matter  with  im. 
to-day." 

And,  in  spite  of  all  her  efforts  to  restrain  them,  the  tears 
wouli  bur?*  forth  afresh;  and  Arthur,  finding  all  his  efforts  at 
consolation  ineffectual,  contented  himself  with  putting  his  arm 
round  her  and  kissing  them  away.  A  few  minutes  afterward 
his  father  appeared. 

"  In  tears,  my  dear  Ellen  ! "  he  said,  kindly ;  "  your  mother 
is  not  worse,  I  hope  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know,  sir,"  replied  the  child,  as  well  as  her  tears 
would  permit ;  "  she  has  heen  very  ill  just  now,  for  her  faint 
was  longer  than  usual." 

"  Did  any  thing  particular  occasion  it  ?  " 

"  I  think  it  was  seeing  my  aunt.  Mamma  was  very  much 
agitated  before  and  afterward." 

"  Mrs.  Hamilton  has  arrived  then !  I  am  rejoiced  to  hear 
it,"  replied  Mr.  Myrvin,  gladly.  Then  sitting  down  by  Ellen, 
tie  took  one  of  her  hands  in  his,  and  said,  kindly,  "  Something 
has  grieved  my.  little  girl  this  evening ;  I  will  not  ask  what  it 
is,  because  you  may  not  like  to  tell  me ;  but  you  must  not 
imagine  evils,  Ellen.  I  know  you  have  done,  and  are  doing, 
the  duty  of  a  good,  affectionate  child,  nursing  your  suffering 
mother,  bearing  with  intervals  of  impatience,  which  her  invalid 
state  occasions,  and  giving  up  all  your  own  wishes  to  sit  quietly 
by  her :  I  have  not  seen  you,  my  child,  but  I  know  those  who 
have,  and  this  has  pleased  me,  and,  what  is  of  much  more  con- 
sequence, it  proves  you  have  not  forgotten  all  I  told  you  of 
your  Father  in  Heaven,  that  even  a  little  child  can  try  to  love 
and  serve  Him." 

"  But  have  you  not  told  me  those  who  are  good  are.  always 
happy  ?  "  inquired  Ellen  ;  "  then  I  cannot  be  good,  though  in- 
deed I  try  to  be  so,  for  I  do  not  think  I  am  happy,  for  I  can 
never  laugh  and  sing  and  talk  as  Edward  does." 

"  You  are  not  in  so  strong  health  as  your  brother,  my  dear 
little  girl,  and  you  have  had  many  things  to  make  you  unhappy, 
which  Edward  has  not.  But  you  must  try  and  remember  that 
even  if  it  please  God  that  sometimes  you  should  be  more  sor- 
rowful than  other  children,  He  loves  you  notwithstanding.  I 
am  sure  ycu  have  not  forgotten  the  story  of  Joseph  that  I  told 
you  a  few  Sundays  ago.  God  so  loved  him,  as  to  give  him  I  in' 
power  of  foretelling  future  events,  and  enabling  hirt  to  dc  H 
great  deal  of  good,  but  when  he  was  taken  away  from  his? 
father  and  sold  as  a  slave  and  cast  into  prison  among  cruel 
strangers,  lie.  could  not  have  been  very  happy,  Ellen.  Yet  still, 


HO.ME   INFLUENCE.  ll 

.oung  as  he  was,  little  more  than  a  child  in  thote  days,  and 
ihown  among  those  who  did  not  know  right  from  wrong  he 
remembered  all  that  his  father  had  taught  him,  and  prayed  to 
Gcd,  and  tried  to  love  and  obey  Him  ;  and  God  was  pleased 
with  him,  and  gave  him  grace  to  continue  good,  and  at  last  so 
blessed  him,  as  to  permit  him  to  see  his  dear  father  and  darling 
brother  again." 

"  But  Joseph  was  his  father's  favorite  child,"  was  Ellen's 
sole  rejoinder  ;  and  the  tears  which  wrere  checked  in  the  eager- 
ness with  which  she  had  listened,  seemed  again  ready  to  burst 
forth.  "  fie  must  have  been  happy  when  he  thought  of  that." 

"  I  do  not  think  so,  my  dear  Ellen,"  replied  Mr.  Myrvin, 
more  moved  than  he  chose  to  betray,  "  for  being  his  father's 
favorite  first  excited  the  dislike  and  envy  of  his  brothers,  and 
caused  them  to  wish  to  send  him  away.  There  was  no  excuse 
indeed  for  their  conduct ;  but  perhaps  if  Joseph  had  always 
remained  near  his  father  he  might  have  been  spoiled  by  too 
great  indulgence,  and  never  become  as  good  as  he  afterwards 
was.  Perhaps  in  his  solitary  prison  he  might  even  have  re- 
gretted that  his  father  had  not  treated  them  all  alike,  as  then 
the  angry  feelings  of  his  brothers  would  not  have  been  called 
forth.  So  you  see,  being  a  favorite  will  not  always  make  us 
happy,  Ellen.  It  is  indeed  very  delightful  to  be  loved  and 
caressed,  and  if  we  try  to  do  our  duty  and  love  as  much  as  we 
can,  even  if  we  are  not  sure  of  being  loved  at  first,  we  may  be 
quite  certain  that  we  shall  be  loved  and  happy  at  last.  I)n 
you  understand  me,  my  child  ?  " 

The  question  was  almost  needless,  for  Ellen's  large  eyes  had 
never  moved  from  his  face,  and  their  expression  was  so  full  o* 
intelligence  and  meaning,  that  the  whole  countenance  seemea 
lighted  up.  "  Then  do  you  think  mamma  will  recover  ?  "  she 
eagerly  exclaimed  ;  "  will  she  ever  love  me  ?  —  oh,  if  I  thought 
so,  I  could  never,  never  be  naughty  again  ! " 

"  She  will  love  you,  my  dear  Ellen,"  replied  Mr.  Myrvin, 
now  visibly  affected,  "  I  cannot,  I  dare  not  tell  you  that  she 
will  recover  to  love  you  on  earth,  but  if  indeed  it  be  God's  will 
that  she  should  go  to  Him,  she  will  look  down  on  you  from 
Heaven  and  love  you  far  more  than  she  has  done  yet,  for  she 
will  know  then  how  much  you  love  her." 

"And  will  she  know  if  I  do  all  she  wishes  —  if  I  love  and 
help  Edward  ?  "  asked  Ellen,  in  a  low,  half-frightened  voice ; 
and  little  did  Mr.  Myrvin  imagine  how  vividly  and  how  'ndeli- 
Oly  his  reply  was  registered  in  the  child's  memory. 

"  It  is  a  question  none  can  answer  positively,  Ellen,  but  it  is 


M  HOME   INFLUENCE. 

my  own  firm  belief,  that  the  beloved  ones  we  have  lost  art 
permitted  to  watch  over  and  love  us  still,  and  that  they  see  us, 
and  are  often  near  us,  though  we  cannot  see  them.  But  even 
to  help  Edward,"  he  continued  somewhat  anxiously,  "  you  must 
not  be  tempted  —  " 

Hs  was  interrupted  by  the  appearance  of  a  stranger,  who, 
addressing  him  courteously,  apologized  for  his  intrusion,  and 
noticing  the  children,  inquired  if  both  were  his. 

Mr.  Myrvin  replied  that  he  could  only  lay  claim  to  one  ;  the 
tittle  girl  was  Miss  Fortescue. 

"And  my  name  is  Hamilton,  so  I  think  I  have  an  uncle's 
privilege  was  the  reply ;  and  Ellen,  to  her  astonishment,  re- 
ceived an  affectionate  embrace  from  the  unknown  relative, 
whom  her  mother's  ill-judged  words  had  taught  her  actually  to 
dread.  Mr.  Myrvin  gladly  welcomed  him,  and,  in  the  interest 
of  the  conversation  which  followed,  forgot  the  Lesson  he  had 
been  so  anxious  to  impress  upon  Ellen.  Arthur  accompanied 
lifer  to  the  garden  gate,  and  the  gentlemen  soon  afterward  en- 
tered the  cottage  together. 

•  Days  merged  into  weeks,  and  still  Mrs.  Fortescue  lingered  ; 
but  her  weakness  increasing  so  painfully  from  alternate  fever 
and  exhaustion  that  to  remove  her  was  impossible.  It  was  the 
first  time  that  Mrs.  Hamilton  had  ever  been  separated  from 
her  children,  and  there  were  many  disagreeables  attendant  on 
nursing  a  beloved  invalid  in  that  confined  cottage  ;  and  with 
only  those  little  luxuries  and  comforts  that  could  be  procured 
(and  even  these  were  obtained  with  diiliculty,  for  the  nearest 
town  was  twenty  miles  distant,)  but  not  a  selfish  or  repining 
thought  entered  Mrs.  Hamilton's  mind.  It  was  filled  with 
thankfulness,  not  only  that  she  was  permitted  thus  to  tend  a 
sister,  whom  neither  error,  nor  absence,  nor  silence  could  es- 
trange from  her  heart,  but  that  she  was  spared  long  enough  for 
her  gentle  influence  and  enduring  love  to  have  some  effect  in 
changing  her  train  of  thought,  calming  that  fearful  irritability, 
and  by  slow  degrees  permitting  her  to  look  with  resignation 
and  penitent  hope  to  that  hour  which  no  human  effort  could 
•avert.  That  Mr.  Myrvin  should  seek  Mrs.  Hamilton's  society 
uiv.l  delight  in  conversing  with  her,  Mrs.  Fortescue  considered 
«)  perfectly  natural,  that  the  conversations  which  took  place  ic 
Ler  sick  room,  whenever  she  was  strong  enough  to  bear  them, 
'jxcited  neither  surprise  nor  impatience.  Different  as  she  was, 
wilfully  as  she  hud  always  neglected  the  mild  counsels  and  ex- 
ample of  her  sister,  the  years  of  separation  and  bat  tro  often 
ex.-ited  self-reproach  had  fully  awakened  her  to  Mr?  Hamil 


HOME    INFLUENCE.  I'd 

tun's  superiority.  She  had  never  found  any  one.  at  all  like 
her  —  so  good  and  holy,  yet  so  utterly  unassuming  imd  the 
strong  affection,  even  the  deep  emotion  in  one  usually  so  con- 
trolled, with  which  her  sister  had  met  her,  naturally  increased 
these  feelings. 

"Ah,  you  and  Emmeline  will  find  much  to  converse  about," 
had  been  her  address  to  Mr.  Myrvin,  on  his  first  introduction  to 
Mrs.  Hamilton.  "Talk  as  much  as  you  please,  and  do  not 
mind  me.  With  Emmeline  near  me,  I  can  restrain  irritability 
which  must  have  frightened  you  away.  I  know  she  is  right. 
Oh,  would  to  God  I  had  always  been  like  her ! "  and  the  suffer 
ing  betrayed  in  the  last  words  was  a  painful  contrast  with  the 
lightness  of  her  previous  tone. 

Mr.  Myrvin  answered  soothingly,  and  for  the  first  time  his 
words  were  patiently  received.  From  listening  listlessly,  Mrs. 
Fortescue,  by  slow  degrees,  became  interested  in  the  conversa- 
tions between  him  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hamilton,  and  so  a  change 
in  sentiments  was  gradually  wrought,  which  by  any  other  and 
harsher  method  of  proceeding  would  have  been  sought  for  in  vain. 

One  evening  as  Mrs.  Hamilton  sat  watching  the  faded  coun- 
tenance of  her  patient,  and  recalling  those  days  of  youth  and 
buoyancy,  when  it  seemed  as  if  neither  death  nor  care  could 
ever  have  assailed  one  so  bright  and  lovely,  Edward,  before  he 
sought  his  favorite  stream,  threw  his  arms  round  her  neck,  and 
pressed  his  rosy  lips  on  her  cheek,  as  thus  to  wish  her  good-by. 

"  He  will  repay  you  for  all  your  care,  dearest  Emmeline,"  his 
mother  said,  with  a  heavy  sigh,  as  he  left  the  room ;  "  I  know 
he  has  what  you  and  your  husband  will  think  faults,  but,  oh, 
for  my  sake,  do  not  treat  him  harshly ;  his  noble  spirit  will  be 
broken  if  you  do ! " 

"Dearest  Eleanor,  dismiss  all  such  fears.  Am  I  not  a  mo- 
ther equally  with  yourself  ?  "  and  do  you  think  when  your  child- 
ren become  mine  I  shall  show  any  difference  between  them  and 
my  own?  You  would  trust  me  even  in  former  years,  surely 
you  will  trust  me  now  ?  " 

"  Indeed,  indeed,  I  do ;  you  were  always  kind  and  forbearing 
with  me,  when  I  little  deserved  it.  But  my  poor  Edward,  it  is 
oo  hard  to  part  with  him,  and  he  loves  me  so  fondly ! "  and  a 
Few  natural  tears  stole  down  her  cheek. 

"And  he  shall  continue  to  love  you  dearest  Eleanor;  and  oh, 
believe  me,  all  that  you  have  been  to  him  I  will  be.  I  hnvt- 
won  the  devoted  affection  of  all  my  own  darlings,  and  J  do  1101 
fear  to  gain  the  love  of  yours;  and  then  it  will  be  :tn  eusy  task 
»«  make  thorn  happy  as  my  own." 


I  4  HOME   INFLUENCE. 

"Edward's  love  you  will  very  quickly  obtain,  if  it  be  not 
yours  already;  but  Ellen  you  will  have  more  trouble  with.  She 
is  a  strange,  cold,  unlovable  child." 

"Are  the  dispositions  of  your  children  so  unlike?  I  should 
not  have  fancied  Ellen  cold ;  she  is  timid,  but  that  I  thought 
would  wear  off  when  she  knew  me  better." 

"It  is  not  timidity;  I  never  knew  her  otherwise  than  cold 
and  reserved  from  her  birth.  I  never  could  feel  the  same 
toward  her  as  I  did  toward  Edward,  and  therefore  there  must 
be  something  in  Ellen  to  prevent  it." 

Mrs.  Hamilton  did  not  think  so,  but  she  answered  gently, 
"Are  you  quite  sure,  my  dear  Eleanor,  that  you  have  equally 
studied  the  characters  of  both  your  children  ?  because  you  know 
there  are  some  cases  which  require  more  study  and  carefulness 
than  others." 

"I  never  was  fond  of  studying  any  thing,  Emmeline,  as  you 
may  remember,"  replied  Mrs.  Fortescue,  painfully  trying  to  smile, 
"and  therefore  I  dare  say  I  have  not  studied  my  children  as 
you  have  yours.  Besides,  you  know  I  always  thought,  and  still 
think,  the  doctrine  of  mothers  forming  the  characters  of  their 
f.hildrcn,  and  all  that  good  people  say  about  the  importance  of 
early  impressions,  perfectly  ridiculous.  The  disposition  for 
good  or  bad,  loving  or  unloving,  is  theirs  from  the  moment  OT' 
their  birth,  and  what  human  efforts  can  alter  that?  Why,  the 
very  infancy  of  my  children  was  different ;  Edward  was  always 
laughing,  and  animated,  and  happy;  Ellen  fretful  and  peevish, 
and  so  heavy  that  she  never  seemed  even  to  know  when  I  en- 
tered the  room,  while  Edward  would  spring  into  my  arms,  and 
shout  and  laugh  only  to  see  me.  Now  what  conduct  on  my 
part  could  have  done  this?  Surely  I  was  justified  in  feeling 
differently  toward  such  opposite  dispositions;  and  I  know  I 
never  made  more  difference  between  them  than  — •  than  papa 
did  between  us,  Emmeline,  and  I  have  had  greater  reason  to  be 
partial ;  you  were  always  better  than  I  was." 

She  ceased,  from  exhaustion,  but  the  flush  which  had  risen 
to  her  temples,  and  the  trembling  hands,  evinced  the  agitation 
always  called  forth  by  the  mention  of  her  father,  which  Mrs. 
Hamilton,  with  earnest  tenderness,  endeavored  to  soothe. 

"  I  must  speak,  Emmeline,"  she  continued,  natural  impetuos- 
ity for  the  moment  regaining  ascendency  ;  "  how  did  1  repay 
rny  fond  father's  partiality  ?  his  too  great  indulgence  ?  Did  I 
not  bring  down  his  gray  hairs  with  sorrow  to  the  grave  ?  Did 
!  not  throw  shame  and  misery  upon  him  by  my  conduct  tv  tht 
ill-fated  one  he  had  chosen  for  my  husband  ?  Did  I  not  v  —  oh 


HOME    INFLUENCE.  15 

my  Gud,  my  God  !  Death  may  indeed  be  merciful !  — •  my 
Edward  might  do  the  same  by  me  ! "  and,  shuddering  violently, 
she  hid  her  face  on  her  sister's  bosom. 

It  was  long  before  Mrs.  Hamilton  could  calm  that  fearful 
agitation,  long  before  her  whispered  words  of  heavenly  hope, 
and  peace,  and  pardon  —  if  indeed  she  believed  —  could  bring 
comfort ;  but  they  did  at  length,  and  such  fearful  paroxysms 
returned  at  longer  and  longer  intervals,  and  at  length  ceased, 
in  the  deep  submission  and  clinging  trust  to  which  she  was  at 
last  permitted  to  attain.  Though  Mrs.  Hamilton  was  detained 
six  weeks  at  Llangwillan,  her  devoted  attendance  on  her  sister 
prevented  any  thing  more  than  occasional  observation  of  the 
children  so  soon  about  to  be  committed  to  her  care.  That 
Edward  was  most  engaging,  and  riveted  her  affection  at  once, 
and  that  Ellen  was  unlike  any  child  she  had  ever  known  or 
seen,  she  could  not  but  feel,  but  she  was  not  one  to  decide  on  a 
mere  feeling.  Her  present  mournful  task  prevented  all  actual 
interference  with  them,  except  the  endeavor  by  kindly  notice  to 
win  their  confidence  and  love.  His  mother's  illness  and  his 
uncle's  presence,  besides,  for  the  present,  his  perfect  freedom 
with  regard  to  employment,  had  deprived  Edward  of  all 
inclination  to  rebel  or  exert  his  self-will,  and  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Hamilton  both  felt  that  he  certainly  had  fewer  faults,  than  was 
generally  the  consequence  of  unlimited  indulgence.  Whether 
Ellen's  extreme  attention  to  her  mother,  her  silent  but  ever 
ready  help  when  her  aunt  required  it,  proceeded  from  mere 
cold  duty,  or  really  had  its  origin  in  affection,  Mrs.  Hamilton 
could  not  satisfactorily  decide.  Her  sister  had  avowed  par- 
tiality, but  that  neglect  and  unkindness  could  have  been  shown 
to  such  an  extent  by  a  mother  as  to  create  the  cold  exterior 
she  beheld,  was  so  utterly  incomprehensible,  so  opposed  to 
every  dictate  of  maternal  love,  which  she  knew  so  well,  that 
*he  actually  could  not  even  imagine  it.  She  could  believe  in 
the  possibility  of  a  preference  for  one  child  more  than  another, 
but  not  in  utter  neglect  and  actual  dislike.  She  could  imagine 
that  Ellen's  love  for  her  mother  might  be  less  warm  than  Ed- 
ward's, believing,  as  she  did,  that  a  parent  must  call  for  a 
child's  affection,  not  be  satisfied  with  leaving  all  to  Nature  ; 
but  if  it  were  not  love  that  dictated  Ellen's  conduct,  it  was 
strange  and  almost  unnatural,  and  so  unpleasing,  that  so  young 
a  child  should  have  such  an  idea  cf  duty.  But  these  were  only 
passing  thoughts  ;  cost  what  trouble  it  might,  Mrs.  Hamiltor 
determined  she  would  understand  her  nicco  as  she  did  her  own 
children. 


ll>  HOME   INFLUENCE. 

But  though  to  her  Ellen  was  a  riddle,  to  her  sistei  Nat'irt 
was  resuming  her  sway,  too  late,  alas !  for  all  save  the  mother';* 
own  reproaches.  Her  weakness  had  become  such  that  days 
would  pass  when  speech,  save  a  few  whispered  words,  was 
impossible ;  but  she  would  gaze  upon  her  child,  as  hour  after 
Lour  she  would  sit  by  the  bed,  resisting  all  Edward's  entreaties, 
find  sometimes  even  her  aunt's  to  go  and  play,  and  long  to  fold 
her  to  her  heart,  and  confess  she  had  been  cruelly  unjust,  and 
that  she  did  love  her  now  almost  as  much  as  Edward,  but  she 
was  much  too  weak  to  do  more  than  feel.  And  Ellen  remained 
snconscious  of  the  change,  except  that  now  and  then,  as  she 
would  bring  her  nourishment  or  bend  over  to  bathe  her  fore- 
head, her  mother  would,  as  if  involuntarily,  kiss  her  cheek  and 
murmur  some  caressing  word.  And  Ellen  longed  to  cling  to 
her  neck  and  say  how  much  she  loved  her,  but  she  did  not  dare, 
and  she  would  hurry  out  of  the  room  to  conceal  her  tears, 
instead  of  returning  the  caress,  thus  unhappily  confirming  the 
idea  of  natural  coldness. 

Even  the  comfort  of  sitting  by  her  mother  was  at  length  de- 
nied her.  Mrs.  Fortescue  became  so  alarmingly  and  painfully 
ill,  that  Mrs.  Hamilton  felt  it  an  unnecessary  trial  for  her  child- 
ren to  witness  it,  especially  as  they  could  be  no  comfort  to 
her,  for  she  did  not  know  them.  The  evening  of  the  fourth  day 
«he  recovered  sufficiently  to  partake  of  the  sacrament  with  her 
sister  and  Mr.  Hamilton,  and  then  entreat  that  her  children 
might  be  brought  to  her.  She  felt  herself,  what  the  physician 
had  imparted  to  her  sister,  that  the  recovery  of  her  senses 
would  in  all  human  probability  be  followed  in  a  few  hours  by 
death,  and  her  last  thoughts  were  on  them. 

Edward,  full  of  glee  at  being  permitted  to  see  her  again, 
bounded  joyfully  into  the  room,  but  the  fearful  change  in  that 
beloved  face  so  startled  and  terrified  him,  that  he  uttered  a  loud 
cry,  and  throwing  himself  beside  her,  sobbed  upon  her  bosom. 
Mrs,  Fortescue  was  fearfully  agitated,  but  she  conjured  her 
sister  not  to  take  him  from  her,  and  her  heavy  eyes  wandered 
painfully  round  the  room  in  search  of  Ellen. 

"  Come  to  me,  Ellen,  I  have  done  you  injustice,  my  sweet 
child,"  she  murmured  in  a  voice  that  Ellen  never  in  her  life 
forgot,  and  she  clung  to  her  in  silent  agony.  "  I  have  not  done 
my  duty  to  you,  I  know —  I  feel  I  have  not,  and  it  is  too  late 
now  to  atone.  I  can  only  pray  God  to  bless  you,  and  raise 
jou  up  a  kinder  parent  than  T  have  been  !  Bless,  bless  you 
both."  Faintness  oveipowered  hr.i.  and  «ho.  lay  far  several 
'uinmcs  powerless,  in  Mrs.  Hamilton';*  arms.  Edward,  'n  pas 


HOME  INFLUENCE.  17 

sionate  grief,  refused  to  stir  from  the  bed ;  and  Ellen,  almost 
unconsciously,  sunk  on  her  knees  by  Mr.  Myrvin. 

"My  own  sister,  bless  you  —  for  all  you  have  been  to  me  — 
all  you  will  be  to  my  children  —  may  they  repay  you  better 
than  I  have  done,  Emmeline !  You  are  right,  there  is  but  one 
hope,  our  Saviour,  for  the  sinner  —  it  is  mine  — "  were  the 
broken  sentences  that,  in  a  voice  which  was  scarcely  audible, 
and  uttered  at  long  intervals,  escaped  Mrs.  Fortescue's  lips, 
and  then  her  head  sunk  lower  on  Mrs.  Hamilton's  bosom,  and 
there  was  a  long,  long  silence,  broken  only  by  Edward's  low 
and  half-suffocated  sobs.  And  he  knew  not,  guessed  not,  the 
grief  that  was  impending.  He  only  felt  that  his  mother  was 
worse,  not  better,  as  he  had  believed  she  would  and  must  be, 
when  his  aunt  arrived.  He  had  never'  seen  death,  though 
Ellen  had,  and  he  had  passionately  and  wilfully  refused  either 
to  listen  or  to  believe  in  his  uncle's  and  Mr.  Myrvin's  gentle 
attempts  to  prepare  him  for  his  loss.  Terrified  at  the  continu- 
ed silence,  at  the  cold  heavy  feel  of  his  mother's  hand,  as  when 
Mr.  Myrvin  and  the  widow  gently  removed  her  from  the  still- 
supporting  arm  of  Mrs.  Hamilton,  it  fell  against  his,  he  started 
up,  and  clinging  to  his  aunt,  implored  her  to  speak  to  him,  to 
tell  him  why  his  mother  looked  so  strange  and  white,  her  hand 
felt  so  cold,  and  why  she  would  not  speak  to  and  kiss  him,  as 
she  always  did,  when  he  was  grieved. 

Mrs.  Hamilton  raised  her  head  from  her  husband's  shoulder, 
and  struggling  with  her  own  deep  sorrow,  she  drew  her  orphan 
nephew  closer  to  her,  and  said,  in  a  low,  earnest  voice,  "  My 
Edward,  did  you  not  hear  your  mother  pray  God  to  bless 
you  ?  " 

The  child  looked  at  her  inquiringly. 

"  That  good  God  has  taken  her  to  Himself,  my  love ;  Ho 
has  thought  it  better  to  remove  her  from  us,  and  take  her  where 
she  will  never  know  pain  nor  illness  more." 

"  But  she  is  lying  there,"  whispered  Edward,  in  a  frightened 
voice,  and  half  hiding  his  face  in  his  aunt's  dress  — "  she  is 
not  taken  away.  Why  will  she  not  speak  to  me  ?  " 

u  She  cannot  speak,  my  sweet  boy  !  the  soul  which  enabled 
her  to  speak,  and  smile,  and  live,  was  God's  gift,  and  it  bar 
pleased  Him  to  recall  it." 

"  And  will  she  never,  never  speak  to  me  again  ?  will  she 
never  kiss  me  —  never  call  me  her  own  darling,  beautiful  Ed 
ward  again  ?  "  he  almost  screamed  in  passionate  grief,  as  the 
truth  at  length  forced  itself  upon  him.  "  Mamma,  mamma,  my 
own  lour,  pretty,  good  mamma,  oh  !  do  not  go  away  from  me  — 


I-S  HOME   INFLUENCE. 

or  let  me  go  with  you  —  let  me  die  too ;  no  one  will  love  me 
and  kiss  me  as  you  have  done."  And  even  the  natural  awe 
and  terror  of  death  gave  way  before  his  grief ;  he  clung  to  the 
body  of  his  mother  so  passionately,  so  convulsively,  that  it  re- 
quired actual  force  to  remove  him.  And  for  hours  his  aunt 
and  sister  watched  over  and  tried  to  soothe  and  comfort  him  in 
vain ;  he  would  only  rouse  himself  angrily  to  ask  Ellen  how 
she  could  know  what  he  felt ;  she  had  never  loved  their  mother 
as  he  had  —  she  did  not  know  what  he  had  lost  —  she  could  not 
feel  as  he  did,  and  then  relapse  into  tears  and  sobs.  Ellen  did 
not  attempt  reply.  She  thought,  if  it  were  such  pain  to  her  to 
lose  her  mother,  who  had  only  the  last  few  weeks  evinced  affec- 
tion for  her,  it  must  indeed  be  still  more  suffering  to  him  ;  and 
though  his  angry  words  grieved  and  hurt  her  (for  she  knew  she 
did  love  her  mother  most  fondly,  her  idea  of  her  own  extreme 
inferiority  acquitted  her  unconsciously  of  all  injustice  toward 
her,  and  made  her  believe  that  she  had  loved  Edward  best  only 
because  he  was  so  much  better  than  herself,)  his  very  grief 
caused  her  to  love  and  admire  him  still  more,  and  to  believe 
that  she  really  did  not  feel  as  much  as  he  did.  And  yet  before 
they  quitted  Llangwillan,  which  they  did  the  second  day  after 
Mrs.  Fortescue's  funeral,  Edward  could  laugh  and  talk  as 
usual  —  except  when  any  object  recalled  his  mother;  and  poor 
Ellen  felt  that  though  she  had  fancied  she  was  not  happy  be- 
fore, she  was  much  more  unhappy  now.  Her  fancy  naturally 
vivid,  and  rendered  more  so  from  her  having  been  left  so  much 
lo  herself,  dwelt  morbidly  on  all  that  had  passed  in  her  mother's 
illness,  on  every  caress,  every  unusual  word  of  affection,  and  on 
Mr.  Myrvin's  assurance  that  she  would  love  her  in  Heaven ; 
the  promise  she  had  made  to  love  and  help  Edward  returned 
to  her  memory  again  and  again,  and  each  time  with  the  increas- 
ed determination  to  keep  it  solemnly.  It  was  not  for  her  mo- 
ther's sake  alone,  and  connected  only  with  her;  perhaps,  had 
it  not  been  for  the  careful  instructions  of  her  father,  whom,  as 
we  shall  presently  see,  she  had  cause  almost  to  idolize,  Ellen 
might  have  become  indifferent  to  her  mother  and  envious  of 
Edward.  But  his  repeated  instructions,  under  all  circumstances 
to  love,  cherish,  and  obey  her  mother  had  been  indelibly  en- 
graved, and  heightened  natural  feeling.  She  believed  that  to 
keep  the  promise,  which  had  so  evidently  pleased  h:jr  mother, 
would  be  also  obeying  her  father,  and  this  double  incentive 
gave  it  a  weight  and  consequence,  which,  could  Mrs.  Hamilton 
have  known  it,  would  have  caused  her  great  anxiety,  and  urged 
fts  removal.  Hut  Ellen  had  been  too  l-nisr  accustomed  to  hide 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  19 

every  thought  auJ  feeling  to  betray  that  which,  chill  as  she 
was,  .°he  believed  sacred  between  herself  and  her  mother.  Mrs. 
Hamilton  watched  her  in  silence,  and  trusted  to  time  and  care 
lo  do  their  work  ;  and  by  enabling  her  to  understand  her  cha- 
racter, permit  her  to  guide  it  rightly. 

The  morning  of  their  intended  departure  was  bright  and 
Bunry,  and  before  even  widow  Morgan  was  moving,  Ellen  had 
quitted  her  little  bed,  and  was  in  the  churchyard  by  her 
mother's  grave.  She  sat  there  thinking  so  intently,  that  she 
did  not  know  how  time  passed,  till  she  was  roused  by  her 
favorite  Arthur  Myrvin's  voice. 

"  Up  so  early,  Ellen,  why,  I  thought  I  should  have  been 
first  to  show  you  I  had  not  forgotten  my  promise."  And  he 
displayed  some  choice  flower-roots,  which  he  commenced  plant- 
ing round  the  grave. 

"  Dear  Arthur,  how  very  kind  you  are ;  but  you  look  so 
sad  —  what  is  the  matter?  Does  not  Mr.  Myrvin  like  you  to 
do  this  —  pray  don't,  then." 

"No,  no,  Ellen,  my  father  said  I  was  right,  and  that  he 
\vould  take  care  of  the  flowers  also  himself.  I  am  only  sorry 
you  are  going  away,  and  to  live  so  differently  to  what  we 
do  —  you  will  quite  forget  me." 

"  Indeed,  indeed  I  shall  not,  dear  Arthur ;  I  can  never  for- 
get those  who  have  been  so  kind  to  me  as  you  and  dear  Mr. 
Myrvin ;  I  would  much  rather  stay  here  always  with  you, 
than  go  among  strangers  again,  but  I  heard  my  aunt  say  last 
night,  that  perhaps  Mr.  Myrvin  would  let  you  come  and  see 
us  sometimes  —  and  you  will  like  that,  will  you  not?  "  Arthur 
did  not  seem  quite  sure  whether  he  would  like  it  or  not ;  but 
they  continued  talking  till  his  task  was  completed,  and  Arthur, 
at  Ellen's  earnest  request,  for  she  suddenly  feared  her  aunt 
would  be  displeased  at  her  having  staid  out  so  long,  returned 
with  her  to  the  cottage ;  the  silent  kiss,  however,  which  she 
received  when  Arthur  explained  what  had  detained  them, 
reassured  her,  and  bound  her  yet  closer  to  the  kind  relative, 
whom,  if  timidity  had  permitted,  she  would  already  have  so 
loved. 

The  novelty  of  his  situation,  the  rapid  and  pleasant  move- 
ment of  his  uncle's  carriage,  the  idea  of  the  new  relations  he 
was  about  to  meet,  and  an  unconfessed,  but  powerful  feelir.g 
of  his  own  increased  consequence  in  being  so  nearly  connected 
with  wealth  and  distinction,  all  had  their  effect  upon  Edward, 
and  his  eye  sparkled  and  his  cheek  glowed,  as  if  all  sorrow 
ha<^  entirely  passed  away;  not  (hat  he  had  censed  to  think  of 


20  HOME    INFLUENCE. 

his  mcUier,  for  the  least  reference  to  hsr  would  fill  his 
with  tears  and  completely  check  his  joy  —  but  still  delight  pie- 
dominated.  Ellen  felt  more  and  more  the  wish  to  shrink  into 
herself,  for  the  farther  they  left  Llangwillan,  the  more  painfully 
hhe  missed  Mr.  Myrvin  and  his  son,  and  the  more  she  shrunk 
from  encountering  strangers.  Edward  she  knew  would  speedily 
find  companions  to  love,  and  to  be  loved  by,  and  he  would 
think  still  less  of  her.  Her  aunt  would  soon  be  surrounded  by 
her  own  children,  and  then  how  could  she  expect  to  win  her^ 
love  ?  And  Ellen  looked  intently  and  silently  out  from  the 
carriage-window  —  her  uncle  believed  on  the  many-ilowered 
hedge  and  other  objects  of  interest  by  which  they  passed  — 
his  wife  imagined  to  hide  a  tear  that  trembled  in  her  eyes,  but 
which  she  had  determined  should  not  fall. 


CHAPTER  III. 

RETROSPECTION. THE     LOWLY     SOUGHT. THE     HAUGHTJ 

FOILED. 

IN  order  clearly  to  understand  the  allusions  of  the  previous 
chapters,  and  the  circumstances  which  had  formed  the  different 
characters  of  Mrs.  Hamilton  and  Mrs.  Fortescue,  it  will  bo 
necessary  to  take  a  retrospective  glance  on  their  early  lives. 
Should  it  be  uninteresting  to  the  more  youthful  of  our  readers, 
we  will  beg  them  to  proceed  at  once  to  "  Traits  of  Character," 
but  to  their  elder  relatives  we  hope  the  matter  will  prove  of 
sufficient  interest  to  obtain  perusal. 

Emmeline  and  Eleanor  Manvers  were  the  daughters  of 
Lord  Delmont,  a  nobleman  whose  title  and  rank  were  rather 
burdensome  than  otherwise,  from  the  want  of  sufficient  means 
fo  keep  them  up  as  inclination  and  position  warranted.  Lady 
Delmont,  whose  energetic,  yet  gentle  character  would  have 
greatly  ameliorated  the  petty  vexations  of  her  husband,  died 
when  Emmeline  was  only  seven,  Eleanor  five,  and  Charles,  her 
only  boy,  an  infant  of  but  three  years  old.  A  widow  lady, 
Mrs.  Harcourt  by  name,  had  been  selected  by  Lady  Delmont, 
in  her  last  illness,  as  instructress  and  jniardian  of  her  da(ij;h 


HOME    INFLUENCE.  21 

U;ra.  Her  wishes,  always  laws  to  her  doating  hu,-  band,  were 
promptly  fulfilled,  and  Mrs.  Harcourt,  two  months  after  her 
friend's  death,  assumed  the  arduous  and  responsible  duties  for 
which  her  high  character  well  fitted  her. 

With  Emmeline,  though  there  were  naturally  some  faults  to 
correct,  an  indolence  and  weakness  to  overcome,  and  appa- 
rently no  remarkable  natural  aptitude  for  acquirement,  her  task 
was  comparatively  easy,  for  her  pupil  had  the  capabilities,  not 
only  of  affection  but  of  reverence,  to  a  very  great  extent,  and 
o:ice  loving  and  respecting  Mrs.  Harcourt,  not  a  command  Avas 
neglected,  nor  a  wish  unfulfilled.  Eleanor,  on  the  contrary, 
l hough  so  gifted  that  teaching  might  have  been  a  complete 
labor  of  love  —  by  self-will,  violent  passions,  and  a  most  deter- 
mined want  of  veneration,  even  of  common  respect,  a  resolute 
opposition  from  her  earliest  years  to  the  wishes  of  Mrs.  liar- 
court,  because  she  was  merely  a  governess,  so  much  her  infe- 
rior in  rank,  rendered  the  task  of  education  one  of  the  most 
difficult  and  painful  that  can  be  conceived  —  increased  from  the 
injudicious  partiality  of  Lord  Delmont.  It  was  not  indeed  the 
culpable  negligence  and  dislike  which  Eleanor  afterward  dis- 
played toward  her  own,  but  originating  in  the  fancy  that  Mrs. 
Harcourt  was  unjust,  and  Emmeline  Avas  her  favorite.  Lord 
Delmont  Avas  one  of  those  unfortunately  weak,  irresolute  cha- 
racters that  only  behold  the  surface  of  things,  and  are  therefore 
utterly  incapable  of  acting  either  Avith  vigor  or  judgment. 
When  he  did  venture  into  the  precincts  of  his  daughters'  apart- 
ments, he  generally  found  Eleanor  in  sobs  and  tears,  and  Em- 
meline quietly  pursuing  her  daily  duties.  That  Mrs.  Harcouil 
often  entreated  his  influence  Avith  her  younger  pupil  to  change 
her  course  of  conduct,  he  never  remembered  longer  than  the 
time  of  her  expostulations  lasted.  Once  or  tAArice,  indeed,  he 
did  begin  to  speak  seriously,  but  Eleanor  would  throw  her  arms 
round  his  neck  and  kiss  him,  call  him  every  endearing  name 
and  beg  him  not  to  look  so  much  like  grave,  cross  Mrs.  Har- 
court, or  she  should  think  she  had  indeed  no  one  to  love  her ; 
and  her  beautiful  eyes  would  SAvell  Avith  tears,  and  her  voice 
quiver,  so  that  her  gratified  father  Avould  forget  all  his  reproof, 
and  give  her  some  indulgence  to  make  up  for  the  injustice  and 
harshness  she  encountered  in  the  school-room.  Her  pOAver 
once  thus  experienced,  of  course,  was  never  resigned.  Her 
father's  appearance  in  their  study  Avas  always  the  signal  for 
her  tears,  Avhich  she  kneAV  would  confirm  fill  his  ideas  of  Mrs. 
Harcourt's  unjust  partiality. 

And   this    idc;i    was  strengthened  as   they   grew  older,   and 


HOME   INFLUENCE. 

masters  for  various  accomplishments  somewhat  lightened  Mrs 
ilarcourt's  actual  labors.  Emmeline's  steady  application  and 
moderate  abilities  were  lost  sight  of  in  the  applause  always 
elicited  i»y  her  younger  sister,  whose  natural  gifts  alike  in 
music,  languages,  and  drawing  had  full  play,  directly  she  was 
released,  even  in  part,  from  the  hated  thraldom  of  her  go- 
verness. Lord  Delmont  had  been  accustomed  to  hear  Elea- 
nor's beauty  extolled,  and  now  the  extraordinary  versatility  and 
brilliancy  of  her  talents  became  the  theme  of  every  tongue. 
Professors  are  naturally  proud  of  a  pupil  who  does  them  more 
than  justice,  and  Miss  Eleanor  Manvers  was  in  consequence 
held  up  in  very  many  families,  whom  Lord  Delmont  only 
oasually  knew,  and  spoken  of  by  very  many  again  to  him, 
knowing  his  weak  point,  and  thus  seeking  to  curry  favor.  Mrs. 
Harcourt  was  the  only  one  from  whom  he  never  heard  Elea- 
nor's praises,  and  the  only  one  who  spoke  in  praise  of  Emme- 
line.  It  must  then  be  wilful  blindness  on  her  part ;  and  the 
father  felt  indignant,  but  in  spite  of  himself  had  too  much  real 
respect  for  her,  individually,  to  do  more  than  redouble  his  in- 
dulgence to  Eleanor.  Emmeline  could  not  complain  of  her 
father's  neglect,  for  he  was  both  kind  and  affectionate  to  her; 
but  she  did  sometimes  wish  she  could  be,  quite  sure  that  he 
loved  her  as  much  as  her  sister ;  and  her  deep  affection,  unsus- 
pected by  her  father,  rejected  and  laughed  at  by  Eleanor, 
twined  themselves  closer  and  closer  round  Mrs.  Harcourt  and 
her  brother  Charles,  on  whom  she  actually  doted,  and  who 
returned  her  affection  with  one  quite  as  fond  and  warm  as  a 
liappy,  laughter-loving,  frank-hearted  boy  had  it  in  his  power 
(«  bestow ;  yet  even  his  holidays  were  times  of  as  much  suffer- 
ing as  joy  to  his  sister,  from  the  violent  quarrels  which  wero 
continually  taking  place  between  him  and  Eleanor.  Emme- 
line, happy  in  herself  and  Mrs.  Harcourt's  companionship, 
could  endure  Eleanor's  determined  supremacy,  and,  except 
tvhere  her  conscience  disapproved,  yielded  to  her.  But  this 
could  not  be  expected  from  Charles,  who,  despite  his  elder  sis- 
ter's gentle  entreaties,  would  stand  up  for  what  he  called  her 
rights,  and  declare  that,  when  he  was  at  home,  Miss  Eleanor 
should  not  lord  it  over  the  whole  family.  Eleanor  would,  of 
course,  first  quarrel  with  him  and  then  appeal  to  her  father, 
who  without  hearing  the  case  would  give  her  right,  and  harshly 
condemn  Charlss,  whose  high  spirit  revolted;  and  unable  to 
bear  with  his  father's  weakness  of  character,  as  he  ought  to 
have  ione,  would  answer  disrespectfully;  and  words  succeeded 
words  till  Charles  in  a  desperate  passion  would  seek  Emmo- 


HOME    INFLUENCE.  23 

,  and  his  father,  though  he  actually  deeply  loveti 
and  was  very  proud  of  his  son,  wished  that  the  holidays  were 
over,  and  Charles  safe  again  at  school. 

Trifling  as  domestic  disputes  may  seem  in  description,  they 
never  fail  in  their  painful  reality  to  banish  all  lasting  happiness. 
Ernmeline  could  bear  that  her  father  should  prefer  Eleanor  to 
herself,  but  that  he  should  be  unjust  to  her  darling  Charles,  and 
that  Charles  should  increase  this  evil  by  dispute  and  self-will, 
tried  her  severely,  and  obliged  her  often  and  often  to  fly  to  the 
solitude  of  her  own  chamber,  lest  her  temper  also  should  fail, 
and,  to  defend  her  brother,  she  should  forget  her  duty  to  her 
father.  But  with  her,  Mrs.  Harcourt's  lessons  had  indeed  been 
blessed.  The  spirit  of  true,  heartfelt  piety,  which  she  had 
sought  to  instil  into  her  youthful  charge,  even  more  by  the 
example  of  her  daily  life  than  by  precepts,  had  become  Emme- 
line's,  young  as  she  still  was,  and  enabled  her  not  only  to  bear 
up  against  the  constant  petty  annoyances  of  her  home,  but  the 
heavy  trial  sustained  in  the  death  of  Mrs.  Harcourt,  just  as  she 
was  looking  forward  to  her  entrance  into  the  gay  world,  under 
her  maternal  guardianship,  and  her  parting  with  her  brother, 
who,  not  two  months  afterward,  left  her  to  fulfil  his  darling 
wish  of  going  to  sea. 

At  eighteen,  then,  Emmeline  Manvers  became  the  mistress 
of  her  father's  establishment,  and  had  to  encounter  alone,  not 
only  the  suffering  of  bereavement  —  in  which,  though  Lord  Del- 
inont  sincerely  respected  Mrs.  Harcourt,  he  could  not  sympa- 
thize, and  at  which,  after  the  first  shock  and  momentary  remo'rse 
for  her  own  conduct  to  so  true  a  friend,  Eleanor,  if  she  did  not 
actually  rejoice,  felt  so  very  greatly  relieved  as  to  be  irritated 
and  angry  at  Emmeline's  quiet  sorrow  —  but  the  separation  from 
her  brother  and  all  the  cares  and  disagreeables  of  such  strict 
economy  at  home,  as  would  permit  the  sustaining  a  proper  posi- 
tion in  society,  so  that  the  necessity  of  economy  should  not  even 
lie  suspected.  It  was  this  regard  of  appearances  which  so 
chafed  and  pained  Emmeline's  upright  and  independent  spirit. 
Not  that  Lord  Delmont,  even  for  appearances,  would  go  beyond 
his  income;  but  still  there  were  obliged  concealments  and  other 
petty  things  which  his  daughter  could  not  bear.  Mrs.  Har- 
court's trial  —  a  widow,  compelled  not  only  to  teach  for  a  sub- 
sistence, but  to  part  with  her  only  child,  who  had  been  adopted 
by  a  married  sister,  living  in  Italy  —  appeared  to  Emmeline's 
ideas  of  truth  and  honor  preferable  to  appearing  richer  than 
they  really  were.  But  on  this  subject,  even  less  than  on  any 
jtnei,  nhe  knew  there  was  no  chance  of  sympathy,  and  so  she 


24  HOME   INFLUENCE. 

devoted  all  the  energies  of  her  matured  and  well-regulated  inico 
to  correcting  the  evil  as  much  as  it  lay  in  her  individual  power ; 
and  in  the  year  which  her  earnest  entreaties  prevailed  on  her 
father  to  permit  her  remaining  in  quiet  retirement,  before  she 
entered  the  world,  Lord  Delmont  was  astonished  at  the  greater 
comfort  and  increase  of  dignity  which  pervaded  his  establish- 
ment. He  never  had  chosen  Mrs.  Harcourt  to  interfere  with 
his  household  concerns,  believing  that  he  conducted  them  him- 
self, when  in  reality  he  was  completely  governed  by  his  house- 
keeper and  steward.  Mrs.  Harcourt's  penetration  had  seen 
and  regretted  this,  and  had  endeavored  so  to  guide  and  instruct 
Emmeline,  that  when  she  became  old  enough  to  claim  her  right 
as  mistress,  the  evil  should  be  remedied.  Could  she  have  look- 
ed down  on  the  child  of  her  love,  she  would  indeed  have  rejoiced 
at  the  beautiful  fruition  of  her  labors.  Lord  Delmont  was  not 
astonished  and  delighted  only,  a  feeling  of  respect  towai'd  his 
gentle,  his  truthful  child  entered  his  heart,  such  as  he  had  ex- 
perienced toward  none,  save  her  mother.  Emmeline  would  in- 
deed have  thought  all  her  toils  repaid,  could  she  have  known 
this,  but  the  very  feeling  prevented  the  display  of  that  caressing 
affection  he  still  lavished  on  Eleanor,  and  the  tears  of  his  elder 
t^irl  often  fell  thick  and  fast  from  the  painful  longing  for  one 
similar  caress,  one  evidence  on  his  part,  that,  though  neither  so 
beautiful,  nor  talented,  nor  engaging  as  Eleanor,  she  could  yet 
minister  to  his  comfort  and  increase  his  happiness. 

But  Emmeline's  strong  feeling  of  religion,  while  it  enabled 
her  to  bear  up  against  care  and  the  constant  and  most  painful 
feeling  of  loneliness,  rendered  the  trial  of  beholding  her  sister's 
wilful  course  of  error,  if  possible,  still  more  severe.  She  knew 
that  all  her  affectionate  counsels  were  worse  than  useless,  that 
though  Eleanor  could  be  even  caressingly  affectionate  when  it 
served  her  purpose,  would  even  listen  to  her  at  the  moment  of 
suffering  from  some  too  hasty  impulse,  she  had  no  lasting  influ- 
ence. And  this  became  more  and  more  evident  as  Eleanoi 
became  the  almost  constant  companion  of  the  Marchioness 
Lascelles,  their  only  female  relative.  It  was  the  evil  influence 
uf  this  lady  which  had  so  increased  Eleanor's  natural  repugnance 
to  Mrs.  Harcourt's  gentle  sway,  that  for  full  two  years  before 
the  latter's  death  the  flattery  of  Lady  Lascelles  and  Eleanor's 
passionate  entreaties  had  prevailed  on  Lord  Delmont  to  permit 
his  daughter  being  more  with  her  than  with  her  sister  and 
governess.  Lady  Lascelles  was  a  woman  of  the  world,  utterly 
heartless,  highly  di.-tinguished,  and  supremely  fashionable.  A) 
her  ho'ise  all  iln  ton  of  the  beau-monde  congregated,  an» 


HOMK    INFLUENCF-  25 

scandal,  frivolity,  and  esprit  were  the  prevailing  k  pios,  diversi- 
fied with  superficial  opinions  of  the  literature,  arts,  and  politics 
of  the  day,  and  various  sentimental  episodes,  which  the  lady  of 
the  house  endured  for  the  sake  of  variety.  Here  Eleanor,  even 
at  fourteen,  was  made  a  popular  idol ;  her  extreme  beauty,  her 
vivacity,  her  talents,  her  sharpness  of  repartee,  all  were  admired, 
extolled,  and  encouraged.  At  seventeen  she  was  introduced 
and  initiated  into  all  the  mysteries  of  an  ultra-fashionable  life, 
and  very  speedily  added  to  her  other  accomplishments  all  the 
arts  of  a  finished  and  heartless  coquette. 

With  Lady  Lascelles  for  her  chaperon,  it  was  not  very  sur- 
prising that  Emmeline  Manvers  shrunk  in  pain  and  dread  from 
her  introduction  into  society;  but  yet  she  knew  her  social  duties 
too  well  to  refuse,  and,  by  an  affectation  of  superior  sanctity, 
which  of  course  would  have  been  the  charge  levelled  against 
her,  throw  a  sneer  upon  those  holy  feelings  and  spiritual  prin- 
ciples which  had  become  part  of  her  very  being.  She  entered 
into  society,  but  the  isolation  to  a  heart  like  hers  of  the  coteries 
of  Lady  Lascelles  and  her  friends,  was  indeed  most  painful,  and 
aggravated  by  the  constant  dread  which  the  contemplation  of 
Eleanor's  reckless  career  could  not  but  occasion. 

But  Emmeline's  trial  of  loneliness  was  happily  not  of  very 
long  duration.  At  a  ball,  which  was  less  exclusive  than  the 
assemblages  of  Lady  Lascelles,  the  attention  of  both  sisters 
was  attracted  to  a  young  man,  by  name  Arthur  Hamilton  — 
Eleanor,  from  his  distinguished  appearance  and  extreme  reserve, 
Emmeline,  by  the  story  attached  to  his  name.  His  father  had 
so  distinguished  himself  in  the  amelioration  of  the  peasantry 
and  working  classes  in  various  parts  of  England,  in  addition  to 
various  services  of  a  private  and  confidential  nature  from  the 
home  government  to  the  courts  abroad,  that  a  viscountcy  was 
offered  to  his  acceptance.  The  message  from  royalty  reached 
him  on  his  death-bed,  and  though,  from  the  faint  and  flickering 
accents  with  which  he  replied  to  the  intended  honor,  it  seemed 
as  if  he  declined  it,  it  was  attributed  to  the  natural  feelings  of  a 
dying  man,  seeing  the  utter  nothingness  of  earthly  honors,  and 
the  title  was  generously  proposed  to  his  son.  But  Arthur  Ha- 
milton had  not  been  the  pupil  and  friend  of  his  father  in  vain. 
With  a  calm  dignity  and  uncompromising  independence,  he 
declared  that  he  had  neither  claim  nor  heirship  to  the  reward 
of  his  father's  services;  that  he  believed  his  parent  would  him- 
self have  refused  it,  preferring  the  honorable  distinction  of  beinji 
an  untitled  English  gentleman,  to  the  unvalued  honor  of  a 
newly-created  lordslrp.  He  respectfully  thanked  (he  govern- 


26  HOME   INFLUENCE. 

ment  for  the  honor  they  intended,  but  decisively  refused  it  — 
that  his  dearest  inheritance  was  his  father's  name. 

Of  course  this  most  extraordinary  decision  was  canvassed 
again  and  again  in  the  fashionable  world,  meeting  there  with 
very  little  appreciation,  because  it  sprang  from  much  higher 
feelings  than  the  world  could  comprehend.  By  many  he  was 
imagined  very  little  removed  from  insane  —  by  others  as  actuat- 
ed by  some  ulterior  motive,  which  would  be  sure  to  display 
itself  some  day  —  by  all  regarded  with  curiosity  —  by  some  few 
with  earnest,  quiet,  heartfelt  admiration:  and  of  this  number 
was  not  only  Emmeline  Manvers,  but  her  father ;  who,  though 
weak  and  yielding,  was  not  worldly,  and  could  admire  honor- 
able independence,  even  while  some  of  his  friends  succeeded  ir 
persuading  him  that  in  this  case  it  nearly  reached  romance. 

Arthur  Hamilton  was  a  star  creating  a  sensation  ;  it  signified 
little  to  Eleanor  Manvers  why  or  wherefore,  but  she  fully  re- 
solved to  conquer  him  and  chain  him,  as  she  had  already  done 
innumerable  others,  victim  to  her  charms.  His  very  reserve 
deepened  her  ardent  longing,  and  the  difficulty  only  strength- 
ened her  resolution,  but  she  tried  in  vain ;  for  the  first  time  she 
was  completely  and  entirely  foiled,  and  she  disliked  him  accord 
ingly  —  a  dislike  increasing  to  actual  abhorrence  —  when  the 
truth  at  length  forced  itself  upon  her,  that  he  admired,  con- 
versed with,  evidently  sought  the  society  of  her  sister,  whom 
she  chose  to  charge  with  deceit  and  underhand  dealing,  with 
all  the  violence  of  angry  passion  and  mortified  defeat. 

Emmeline  bore  the  storm  calmly,  for  her  conscience  per- 
fectly acquitted  her.  She  was  not  indeed  indifferent  to  Arthur 
Hamilton,  but  she  had  tried  hard  to  prevent  the  ascendency  of 
affection,  for  she  had  heard  that  he  still  mourned  the  loss  of  a 
beloved  one  to  whom  he  had  been  for  many  years  engaged. 
And  deep  was  her  thankful  joy,  and  unexpected  indeed  the 
intensity  of  her  happiness,  when  six  months  after  their  first 
introduction  he  related  to  her  the  heavy  trial  of  his  early  life, 
and  concluded  by  asking  her  if  she  could  indeed  accept  a  heart 
which  had  so  loved  another,  but  which  was  now  entirely  her 
own,  and  happier  than  he  had  once  believed  it  ever  could  be. 
The  very  frankness  of  his  avowal  increased  the  feelings  of 
reverence  and  regard  he  had  already  inspired,  and  to  the  great 
delight,  and  no  little  pride  of  Lord  Delmont,  his  elder  daughter, 
who  had  been  by  Lady  Lascelles'  coterie  so  overlooked  and 
neglected,  who  had  been  by  many  for  years  considered  a  mere 
foil  to  the  beauty  and  talent  of  her  younger  sister,  was  united 
before  she  was  twenty,  to  a  man  who  —  however  his  high  pi-ii 


HOME    INFLUENCE  27 

ciples  might  have  excited  laughter  as  high-flown  romance,  his 
unbending  integrity  and  dislike  of  the  pleasures  and  amuse- 
ments, but  too  aften  the  sole  pursuit  of  the  wealthy,  exposed 
him  to  the  charge  of  severity  and  eccentricity  —  was  yet  sought, 
and  his  connection  deemed  a  most  desirable  partie  by  all  and 
every  family  who  had  marriageable  daughters. 


CHAPTER    IV. 

BESTROSPECTIVE. —  EFFECTS    OF    COQUETRY.  —  OBEDIENCE 
AND    DISOBEDIENCE. 

ELEANOR'S  unfounded  dislike  toward  Arthur  Hamilton  did 
not  decrease  when  he  became  her  brother-in-law  ;  she  chose  to 
believe  that  he  had  injured  her  by  being  the  only  one  who  had 
remained  proof  against  all  the  fascinations  she  had  thrown  in 
his  way.  Even  in  her  childhood,  if  any  one  chanced  to  notice 
Emmeline  more  than  herself,  it  was  considered  a  mortal  offence, 
and  the  person  who  had  so  offended  was  scarcely  spoken  to 
again.  Therefore  that  Emmeline  should  be  married  before 
herself,  and  to  the  man  she  intended  to  captivate,  but  not  to 
love,  or  wed,  was  an  offence  visited  upon  her  sister  by  the 
withdrawal  of  her  speech  for  six  months,  and  on  Mr.  Hamilton 
by  an  insulting  haughtiness  of  demeanor  toward  him,  at  which 
he  only  smiled  ;  and,  to  her  extreme  annoyance,  she  found  that 
even  as  she  had  failed  to  fascinate,  she  equally  failed  to  offend. 
He  would  speak  to  her,  would  treat  her  with  courtesy,  and 
the  quiet  familiarity  of  an  older  relative  —  and  more,  actually 
remonstrate  with  her  conduct  whenever  he  thought  it  wrong. 
It  was  the  recollection  of  this  time,  yet  more  than  actual  pre- 
sent feeling,  which  had  occasioned  the  mistaken  impressions  she 
had  infused  into  both  her  children,  of  the  extreme  severity  and 
harshness  of  their  uncle,  thoughtlessly  indeed,  for  the  present 
was  always  all  to  her,  and  if  she  did  think  that  they  might  on* 
day  be  under  his  charge,  she  little  imagined  the  unhappiness 
and  mischief  which  their  supposition  of  his  unbending  stern- 
ness might  engender. 

To  Emmeline,  the  change  in  her  young  life  was  so  mar- 
vellous, so  complete  —  care,  anxiety,  loneliness,  that  sinking  of 
the  whole  frame  and  heart,  from  the  absence  of  appreciation 


28  HOME    INFLUENCE. 

and  social  kindness,  had  so  departed,  leaving  in  their  stead 
such  an  intensity  of  quiet  domestic  happiness,  that  it  was  long 
before  her  full  heart  could  believe  it  reality,  and  rest  secure. 
She  had  always  longed  for  one  to  reverence,  to  cling  to,  and 
her  husband  gave  her  room  for  both.  As  his  betrothed,  even 
before  their  marriage,  she  had  been  introduced  to  very  different 
society  to  that  of  the  marchioness  ;  she  beheld  him  reverenced, 
loved,  appealed  to  by  the  wisest  and  the  best  men,  often 
older  than  himself.  That  this  man  should  so  love,  cherish,  and 
actually  reverence  her  —  no  wonder  that  under  the  magic  of 
such  feelings  her  character  matured,  displaying  such  engaging 
and  unsuspected  qualities,  that  even  her  husband  often  looked 
at  her  with  astonishment,  playfully  asking  her  if  she  could  be 
the  same  calm,  almost  too  quiet,  and  seemingly  too  cold  Emme- 
line  Manvers  whom  he  had  first  seen.  Her  very  talents,  which 
had  seemed  worthless,  compared  to  her  sister's,  were  called 
forth  by  her  husband.  She  found  that  her  voice  and  her  touch 
on  either  piano  or  harp,  could  give  him  exquisite  pleasure,  and 
this  once  discovered,  she  made  such  improvement  as  almost  to 
surprise  herself.  She  found  the  sketches  taken  from  the  various 
lovely  spots  in  the  vicinity  of  their  noble  seat,  and  in  which 
Devonshire  abounds,  delighted  him,  and  when  Eleanor  did 
visit  Oakwood,  she  was  astounded  at  the  various  beautiful 
drawings,  which  evinced  the  employment  of  that  leisure  which 
she  had  declared  must  be  even  to  the  quiet  Emmeline  a  horrid 
bore. 

To  Lord  Delmont  the  change  in  his  daughter  was  much 
more  astonishing  than  to  her  husband.  He  was  very  often  at 
Oakwood,  (particularly  when  a  little  grandson  was  added  to  the 
happy  party,)  for  his  home  under  Eleanor's  extravagant  and 
heedless  management  had  lost  all  the  comfort  that  Emmeline 
had  bestowed.  He  had  begun,  too,  to  discover  that  his  darling, 
his  still  favorite  Eleanor,  was  not  faultless.  Emmeline's  gene- 
rous assistance  and  determination  to  spare  her  father  all  discom- 
fort, had  concealed  Eleanor's  personal  extravagance  from  him  ; 
but  after  her  marriage,  as  Eleanor's  fashionable  amusements  in- 
creased, so  did  the  quantity  and  amount  of  her  bills,  which,  as 
the  young  lady  did  not  seem  inclined  to  settle  them,  were  sent 
to  her  father.  Lord  Delmont  was  painfully  startled,  and  with 
his  usual  want  of  judgment  spoke  to  Eleanor  at  the  very  mo- 
ment that  he  felt  most  angry ;  unaccustomed  to  reproof  from 
him,  she  retorted  Avith  equal  passion,  and  a  violent  altercation 
ensued,  which  ended  in  Eleanor  ordering  the  carriage,  and 
driving  to  Lady  Lascelles,  declaring  ?he  could  not  think  of 


HOME  INFLUENCE.  .    29 

reluming  home,  till  her  father  had  sufficiently  recovered  his 
senses  for  her  to  do  so  in  safety. 

The  interference  of  Emmeline  at  length  succeeded  in  restor- 
ing peace,  but  Lord  Delmont's  eyes  had  been  rudely  opened, 
mid,  as  is  unhappily  too  often  the  case  with  those  weak  cha- 
racters where  over-indulgence  of  childhood  has  occasioned 
those  annoyances  of  ungoverned  youth,  he  became  irritable  and 
sometimes  even  harsh  with  Eleanor,  which  conduct  threw  her 
still  more  with  Lady  Lascelles.  As  to  joining  society  with  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Hamilton,  when  they  were  in  London,  Eleanor  would 
not  hear  of  it.  But  to  her  sister's  great  joy,  and  some  surprise, 
she  accepted  an  invitation  to  Oakwood  a  short  time  after  little 
Percy's  birth  ;  and,  still  more  surprising,  condescended  to  make 
herself  agreeable.  The  London  season  had  tired  her,  and  she 
thought  she  might  just  as  well  be  dull  on  the  banks  of  the  Dart 
in  August,  and  September,  as  in  some  stupid  watering-place. 
Mr.  Hamilton,  despite  her  dislike,  which  she  cared  not  to  avow, 
she  found  could  be  at  least  very  entertaining  ;  her  father  was 
more  like  his  former  self,  her  sister  far  more  delightful  and 
lovely  than  she  ever  thought  she  could  be,  and  her  nephew  cer- 
tainly a  pretty  little  plague.  Then  Mr.  Hamilton  had  a  beauti- 
ful horse  entirely  for  her  use,  and  she  rode  exceedingly  well, 
and  was  greatly  admired.  She  was  seized  with  an  exploring 
mania,  and  dragged  Emmeline  to  every  old  ruin  and  dark  wood 
within  ten  miles  of  Oakwood.  Altogether  the  impression  she 
left  behind  her,  after  a  two  months'  visit,  was  such  as  to  ease 
Mrs.  Hamilton's  great  anxiety,  more  especially  as  it  appeared, 
from  certain  private  conversations,  that  her  affections  were  for 
the  first  time  really  engaged,  and  Emmeline  had  always  fondly 
hoped  that  when  that  should  be  the  case,  Eleanor  would  be- 
come a  very  different  person.  Alas  !  penetrative  as  she  was, 
she  had  not  yet  learned  her  sister's  character  ;  simply  because 
utter  heartlessness  in  any  woman  she  could  not  comprehend. 

Her  visit  to  her  father  in  London,  in  the  winter,  removed  all 
cheir  rising  hopes,  and  caused  such  increased  and  intense  anx- 
iety, as  so  to  injure  her  already  delicate  health  that  her  hus- 
band bore  her  back  to  Oakwood  a  full  month  before  they  had 
originally  intended.  Whether  or  not  Eleanor  loved  Lord  Fitz- 
clair,  it  was  impossible  to  determine  ;  but  that  he  devotedly, 
passionately  loved  her,  was  only  too  evident,  not  only  to  the 
world,  but  to  herself;  and  this  once  confirmed,  she  left  no  me- 
thod untried  to  torment,  and  so,  as  she  declared,  to  try  if  his 
affections  were  WTth  having.  He  was  half  an.  Italian,  and  had 
inherited  all  the  strong,  fierce  passions  of  that  country,  without 
3 


SO  HOME    INFLUENCE. 

one  atom  of  self-control.  Mr.  Hamilton  knew  him  well,  far  bet« 
ter  than  he  knew  himself,  and  conjured  him  to  withdraw  from 
the  society  of  one  who  could  never  make  him  happy,  and  whose 
capricious  conduct  was  so  likely  to  render  him  desperate  and 
miserable  ;  he  reasoned,  entreated  in  vain.  "  She  only  wants 
to  try  the  strength  of  my  love,'*  was  his  sole  reply  ;  "  and  were 
she  to  torment  health  and  life  away,  it  will  never  change  —  she 
will  be  mine  yet." 

And  to  the  astonishment  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hamilton,  twc 
months  afterward  he  proposed  in  form,  and  actually  was  ac- 
cepted, with  the  sole  condition  that  their  engagement  should  bt 
kept  secret  till  it  should  please  Eleanor  to  name  the  wedding 
day,  which  could  not  be  at  least  for  six  or  eight  months. 

This  engagement  might  have  eased  anxiety,  but  the  condi- 
tion increased  it,  especially,  as  instead  of  coming  to  Oakwood 
as  Emmeline  had  asked  and  hoped,  the  latter  part  of  the  sum 
mer  and  autumn  was  to  be  spent  in  Cheltenham  with  a  very 
gay  party,  in  which  Eleanor  was  still  of  course  the  star.  Mrs. 
Hamilton  entered  the  nursery  one  morning  earlier  than  usual, 
for  her  infant  had  not  been  well  the  night  before,  and  she  had 
already  experienced  the  care  as  well  as  the  joy  of  a  mother. 
Her  babe  was  better,  and  as  he  lay  smilingly  and  happily  in 
her  lap,  and  watched  the  eager  movements  of  his  brother,  she 
was  only  sensible  of  pleasure.  The  nurse  had  arranged  the 
/hairs  in  a  long  line,  that  Master  Percy  might,  with  their  help, 
walk  the  whole  length  of  the  large  and  airy  room.  The  feat 
mightily  pleased  the  little  gentleman,  who,  having  acquired  the 
venerable  age  of  fifteen  months,  liked  better  to  feel  his  feet 
than  crawl  on  the  floor,  or  be  canned  about  on  any  limbs  but 
his  own.  Every  two  or  three  paces  he  stood  nearly  alone,  and 
burst  into  a  loud  merry  laugh,  which  was  always  echoed  by  a 
crow  of  joy  from  his  little  brother. 

"  Take  care,  Percy,  love,  don't  fall  and  frighten  mamma," 
said  his  young  mother,  who  was  watching  him  with  such  plea- 
sure as  to  send  for  his  father  to  share  it.  When  her  son,  to 
prove  how  well  lie  obeyed  her  commands  to  take  care,  stood 
for  a  second  without  any  support,  and  then  ran  quite  alone 
across  the  room,  and  with  a  yet  louder  laugh  hid  his  rosy  face 
in  her  lap.  Mrs.  Hamilton  fondly  kissed  the  little  nestling 
Dead,  and  at  that  moment  her  husband  entered  the  roora. 
'Dearest  Arthur,"  she  eagerly  exclaimed,  "I  was  actnaly 
foolish  enough  to  send  for  you.  Herbert  seems  quite  will;  I 
was,  it  seems,  needlessly  alarmed,  and  Percy  has  this  mo- 
ment— "  She  stopped  in  sudden  terror,  for  there  was  an  ex 


HOME    INFLUENCE.  31 

pression  on  her  husband's  countenance  of  such  unusual  agita- 
Hon,  that  though  he  tried  to  smile  when  he  heard  her  words, 
she  could  not  conquer  her  alarm,  more  than  to  say,  in  a  cares- 
sing voice  to  her  little  boy  — 

"Will  not  Percy  run  to  papa,  and  ask  him  why  he  looks  so 
sad?" 

The  child  looked  up  in  her  face,  and  then,  as  his  father  held 
out  his  arms  to  him,  let  go  his  mother's  dress,  and  obeyed  her. 
Mr.  Hamilton  caught  him  to  his  heart,  held  him  for  above  a 
minute,  kissed  him  fondly,  and  left  the  nursery  without  utter- 
ing a  single  word. 

"  Let  me  take  Master  Herbert,  ma'am,"  said  the  head  nurse 
respectfully,  for  she  saw  that  her  mistress's  unexpressed  alarm 
bad  nearly  overpowered  her ;  and  in  a  few  minutes  Emmeline 
was  with  her  husband,  whose  agitation  was  so  excessive,  that 
even  his  wife's  presence,  for  the  moment,  had  scarcely  power 
to  calm  him. 

The  tale  was  soon  told.  Eleanor's  conduct  since  her  en- 
gagement had  been  such  as  to  excite  the  displeasure,  not  of  her 
lather  alone,  but  actually  of  the  marchioness ;  who,  though  a 
weak  and  worldly  woman,  had  yet  some  idea  of  propriety.  As 
a  near  relation  of  Lord  Delmont,  Eleanor's  engagement  with 
Lord  Fitzclair  was  of  course  told  to  her,  and  again  and  again 
she  warned  her  that  she  was  going  too  far,  and  might  lose  her 
lover  before  she  was  aware  of  it ;  but  Eleanor  only  laughed  at 
her,  and  at  last  won  her  over  to  the  belief  that  it  was  certainly 
better  to  cure  Fitzclair  of  his  jealous  tendency  before  marriage 
than  afterward.  Lord  Delmont's  reproofs  she  was  wont  to 
silence,  by  invariably  making  them  the  signal  of  mortifying  and 
annoying  Lord  Fitzclair  still  more  than  usual.  Yet  still  at 
times  she  relented,  and  so  strengthened  the  love  she  had  excit- 
3d,  so  enhanced  her  own  fascinations,  that  all  the  agony  he  had 
endured  and  was  still,  he  knew,  to  endure,  by  an  incomprehen- 
sible contradiction,  riveted  her  power  and  hastened  his  own 
doom.  Weak  in  all  things  but  his  love,  he  could  not  demand 
as  his  actual  right  the  publication  of  their  engagement.  Elea- 
nor vowed  if  he  did  till  she  permitted  him,  she  would  have 
nothing  more  to  say  to  him.  She  knew,  though  she  did  not 
say  it,  that  once  made  known,  a  chain  would  be  thrown  round 
her  actions,  which  she  did  not  choose  to  endure.  And  father, 
lover,  and  friend,  all  feeling  she  was  wrong,  and  the  first  an:l 
last  repeatedly  telling  her  so,  had  yet  neither  of  them  the  r<.- 
solution  to  contend  with  her,  and  compel  the  proper  course. 

A  month  of  their  visit  to  Cheltenham  so  passed,  wl  en  Elea- 


82  HOME   INFLUENCE. 

nor's  attention  was  arrested  by  a  new  actor  on  the  scene.  She 
had  begun  to  tire  of  her  present  satellites,  and  a  young  military 
captain,  whose  furlough  from  India  had  just  expired,  and  whosti 
pale  face,  somewhat  melancholy  expression,  and  very  elegant 
figure,  presented  a  new  object  for  conquest  impossible  to  be 
resisted ;  and  it  was  unhappily  only  too  easily  achieved.  She 
made  no  secret  of  her  admiration,  speaking  of  him  in  such  terms 
to  her  intended  husband  as  to  excite  anew  every  jealous  feel- 
ing. It  was  easy  for  Captain  Fortescue  to  discover  Fitzclaii 
was  his  rival;  but  believing  himself  decidedly  the  object  of 
Eleanor's  preference,  he  increased  his  attentions,  little  imagin 
ing  the  storm  he  was  exciting,  the  more  fearful  from  its  deter 
mined  suppression.  Lord  Delmont  interfered  several  times, 
not  only  by  reproaches  to  Eleanor,  but  by  determined  coldness 
to  her  new  suitor.  Finding  at  length  that  her  encouragement 
actually  neared  a  criminal  extent,  and  after  a  desperately 
stormy  interview,  he  solemnly  declared  that  if  she  did  not  dis- 
miss Captain  Fortescue  at  once,  he  would  shame  her  in  the 
face  of  the  whole  world,  by  proclaiming  her  engagement  with 
the  young  marquis.  Eleanor  in  equal  anger  declared  that  if 
he  threatened,  so  too  could  she ;  and  if  he  tormented  her  any 
more  she  would  prevent  all  publication  of  her  engagement  by 
herself  snapping  it  asunder,  and  pledging  her  faith  to  Captain 
Fortescue.  This  was  too  much  even  for  Lord  Delmont.  De- 
claring if  she  did  so,  a  father's  heaviest  malediction  should  fall 
on  her  head,  he  hastily  left  her ;  and  Eleanor  very  composedly 
went  to  prepare  for  an  excursion  on  horseback  with  Fortescue, 
Fitzclair,  and  others. 

When  Lord  Delmont's  passions  were  once  roused,  even  his 
ordinarily  slender  judgment  entirely  forsook  him,  and  he  did 
that  which  at  another  time,  knowing  Fitzclair  as  he  did,  he 
would  have  shrunk  from.  lie  sought  him,  while  still  exaspe- 
rated, upbraided  him  for  his  weakness  in  permitting  Eleanor's 
unprincipled  conduct,  and  warned  him  that,  if  he  did  not  adopt 
some  strong  measures  to  prevent  it,  he  would  certainly  lose  her 
entirely. 

The  young  man  heard  him  without  reply ;  but  his  face  grew 
livid,  and  he  clenched  his  hand  till  the  blood  started  from  the 
nails,  and  in  this  mood  of  concentrated  passion  joined  the  rid- 
ing party.  The  exercise  itself  is,  to  some  temperaments,  un- 
usually exciting,  and  the  determined  coldness  of  Eleanor  to 
himself,  and  the  eagerly-received  devotion  of  Fortescue,  mad- 
dened him.  He  demanded  an  interview  with  her  on  theii 
return  home  struggled  to  speak  calmly,  expostulated,  and 


HOME    INFLUENCE.  38 

finally,  reproached.  Eleanor,  already  irritated,  and,  beyond 
all,  that  her  lover,  in  general  so  obsequious  and  humble,  should 
dare  to  call  her  to  account  for  mere  amusement,  combined  with 
the  recollection  of  Captain  Fortescue's  flattering  vows  and 
willing  homage,  excited  her  to  an  extent  of  which  she  was  her- 
self unconscious,  inasmuch  as  she  firmly  believed,  whatever  she 
might  say  then,  a  few  soft  words  would  speedily  obliterate. 
She  told  him  that  really  his  jealous  temperament  was  beyond 
all  endurance ;  that  he  certainly  must  intend  her  to  despise 
and  abhor  him ;  and  that  the  contrast  he  presented  to  Captain 
Fortescue  was  such  as  to  make  her  most  heartily  wish  to  put 
an  end  to  their  engagement,  as  she  felt  quite  sure  it  must  only 
end  in  misery  for  both ;  and,  without  waiting  for  a  reply,  she 
haughtily  brushed  by  him,  and  disappeared. 

Of  the  extent  of  Fitzclair's  passion  Eleanor  had  not  the 
least  idea,  and  this  is  saying  a  great  deal,  for  she  generally 
exaggerated  her  own  power.  She  believed  she  had  inflicted 
pain,  but  not  as  much  as  he  deserved ;  and  determined  that 
she  would  torment  him  yet  more  at  the  ball  that  evening.  But 
to  her  extreme  mortification  he  did  not  appear,  and  there  was 
a  vague  dread  on  her  spirits  as  she  retired  for  the  night,  which 
prevented  any  thing  like  rest.  His  absence  had  excited  sur- 
prise in  all,  especially  Lady  Lascelles,  who  knew  that  to  leave 
Eleanor  entirely  to  the  attentions  of  young  Fortescue  was  so 
unprecedented  as  to  bode  no  good.  But  the  Avildest  conjectures 
were  far  from  reality.  The  very  next  morning  all  Cheltenham 
was  thrown  into  the  most  painful  excitement  by  the  incompre- 
hensible and  most  extraordinary  fact  of  the  suicide  of  Lord 
Fitzclair ;  by  what  occasioned,  plunged  into  such  mystery  that 
nothing  but  sudden  aberration  of  mind  was  imagined,  a  belief 
justified  by  the  very  peculiar  temperament  and  manners  of  the 
young  nobleman  during  his  sojourn  with  them.  His  will,  a 
valuable  present,  with  a  few  lines  of  regard  to  his  faithful 
attendant,  and  a  letter  addressed  to  Arthur  Hamilton,  Esq., 
were  the  sole  evidences  that  the  awful  deed  had  not  been  com- 
mitted without  some  preparation ;  but  as  that  was  often  the 
case  with  madness  itself,  it  excited  no  remark. 

The  state  of  Eleanor's  mind,  when  these  awful  tidings  were 
communicated  to  her,  which  they  were  by  her  father,  in  his  agi- 
tation and  anger,  without  the  least  preparation,  we  leave  our 
readers  to  imagine.  Hardened,  heartless,  wilful  as  she  was, 
Mie  was  still  a  woman,  and  a  very  young  one,  and  till  Captain 
Fortescue  appeared,  had  loved,  as  far  as  it  was  in  her  nature, 
Lord  Fitzclair.  To  believe  that  she  had  nothircr  to  do  with 


34  HOME   INFLUENCE. 

his  miserable  3nd  was  an  attempt  so  vain  and  hollow,  that  even 
she  shrunk  from  the  hopeless  struggle  to  realize  it ;  remone,  in 
all  its  torturing,  unmitigated  anguish,  took  possession  of  her, 
"but  instead  of  leading  her  to  penitence,  and  thence  the  hope 
of  peace,  it  urged  her  to  a  course  of  action  from  which  she 
imagined  there  was  no  withdrawing ;  and  which  must  in  time, 
by  removing  her  from  all  painful  associations,  lessen  her  pre- 
sent misery. 

For  three  days  and  nights  she  never  quitted  her  own  apart 
ment,  and  then  joined  her  usual  circles  without  the  smallest 
evidence  of  the  internal  agony  which  was  still  hers.  It  was 
very  easy  to  displace  paleness  by  artificial  roses,  and  her  gay 
smiles  and  joyous  sallies  were  tempered  only  by  a  judiciously- 
expressed  horror  when  the  late  event  was  discussed  before  her, 
supposed  natural  to  one  who  had  known  him  so  intimately ; 
but  the  hours  of  loneliness  which  followed  this  conduct  in 
society  were  terrible  indeed.  By  a  strange  contrariety  of  feel- 
ing, her  better  nature  longed  for  Emmeline,  and  her  artificial, 
which  had,  alas  !  only  too  forcibly  become  her  natural  self, 
felt  as  if  she  would  leave  the  kingdom  rather  than  encounter 
the  mild,  sorrowful  glance  of  those  penetrating  eyes. 

Lord  Delmont  was  himself  in  a  most  pitiable  condition  ;  even 
minor  evils  had  always  been  great  to  him,  and  the  effect  of  this, 
the  wish  to  take  Eleanor  away  from  Captain  Fortcscue's  in- 
creased and  annoying  attentions,  and  yet  the  dread  that  doing 
so  would  connect  her  with  Fitzclair's  death,  so  distracted  him 
as  to  render  him  really  ill  —  information  which  instantly  brought 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hamilton  to  Cheltenham. 

Some  young  wives  and  mothers  might  have  felt  it  hard  that 
I  heir  domestic  enjoyment  should  so  continually  have  been  dis- 
turbed and  annoyed  from  the  faults  of  others  ;  but  Emmeline 
had  been  accustomed  to  trace  every  thing  that  created  personal 
suffering  to  the  highest  source,  and  feel  that  it  was  good  for 
her,  or  it  would  not  be  ;  a  conviction  that  enabled  her  to  beai 
with  and  still  to  love  the  erring  one  that  was  the  visible  cause 
of  pain. 

Eleanor  was  at  a  gay  ball  the  night  of  her  arrival,  and  Mrs 
Hamilton  requested  she  might  not  be  informed  of  it  till  the  fol- 
lowing day.  About  half  an  hour  before  her  usual  hour  of  rising 
after  such  scenes,  she  entered  her  sister's  room.  All  around 
her  lay  the  ornaments  of  the  previous  evening,  lool.ing  so 
strange,  gaudy,  and  faded  in  the  darkened  room,  and  judged 
by  the  calmer  feelings  of  the  morning.  A  sensation  of  intense 
depression  crept  over  Emmeline  as  she  gazed,  increasing  a? 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  -'35 

she  looked  on  the  face  of  the  sleeper,  which,  divested  of  its 
unnatural  bloom,  looked  so  fearfully  wan  and  haggard.  Her 
beautiful  hair  lay  in  tangled  masses  on  her  damp  brow,  and  as 
Emmeline  gently  tried  to  remove  it,  Eleanor  started  and  awoke. 

"  Is  it  already  time  to  get  up  ?  "  she  said  languidly,  and  only 
half  unclosing  her  eyes  ;  "I  feel  as  if  I  had  not  slept  at  all. 
Am  I  dreaming  ?  "  she  added,  starting  up,  "  or  have  I  slept  in 
one  place,  and  awoke  in  another  ?  Am  I  at  Oakwood  ?  " 

"  No,  dearest  Eleanor  ;  will  you  not  welcome  me  to  Malvern 
House  ?  " 

The  voice,  the  look,  seemed  to  thrill  through  her  ;  her  tem- 
ples were  throbbing,  her  heart  weighed  down,  as  it  always  was 
when  she  first  awoke,  with  an  undefinable  sense  of  guilt  and 
pain ;  she  tried  to  be  cold,  proud,  reserved,  but  it  would  not 
do,  and  she  suddenly  flung  her  arms  round  her  sister's  neck, 
and  burst  into  agonized  tears. 

It  was  a  most  unexpected  greeting,  and  Mrs.  Hamilton  ar- 
gued hopefully  from  it.  Alas  !  the  unwonted  softening  only 
lasted  one  brief  half  hour.  She  left  her  at  Eleanor's  entreaty 
while  dressing,  and  when  she  returned,  though  the  reckless 
girl  told  her  with  a  half  smile  that  she  was  ready  for  her  lec- 
ture, for  she  could  only  have  come  from  Oakwood  to  give  her 
one ;  and  that  however  severe  her  words  might  be,  she  could 
not  alter  her  tone,  that  must  be  kind,  in  spite  of  herself.  Yet 
Emmeline  could  not  succeed  in  convincing  her  how  wrongly, 
how  cruelly  she  had  acted.  Eleanor  would  persist  that  she 
was  not  in  the  least  to  blame,  and  that  poor  Fitzclair's  fearful 
end  was  only  owing  to  his  own  violent  passions ;  in  fact,  that 
he  must  have  been  out  of  his  mind,  and  that,  though  it  was 
certainly  very  dreadful,  she  had  perhaps  escaped  a  very  terri- 
ble doom  ;  but  speak  as  she  might,  Emmeline  was  not  deceived 
as  to  the  agony  she  was  actually  enduring.  Finding,  however, 
}hat  all  her  gentle  efforts  were  useless,  that  even  the  perusal  of 
Fitzclair's  brief  lines  to  her  husband  —  which  Eleanor  insisted 
an  seeing,  and  in  which  he  deplored  his  madness  in  not  having 
followed  his  advice,  and  flown  from  her  presence,  and  bade 
him  take  his  forgiveness  to  her,  and  say,  that  the  means  he  had 
adopted  would,  he  trusted,  dissolve  their  engagement  to  her 
satisfaction  —  had  no  effect,  save  in  causing  her  to  turn  so 
deadly  pale,  that  her  sister  was  convinced  nothing  but  an  al- 
most supernatural  effort  of  pride  preserved  her  from  fainting. 
She  desisted ;  hoping  against  hope  that  Eleanor  would  yet 
repent  and  become  a  different  being.  She  knew  harshnvsa 
would  only  harden,  and  so  she  tried  to  prevail  on  her  father  to 


86  HOJIE   INFLUENCE. 

treat  her  as  usual,  but  this  Lord  Delinont  could  not  do.  It  is 
strange  how  often  we  find  those  parents  who  have  beei.  over- 
indulgent  to  childhood,  unusually  harsh  to  the  faults  of  youth. 
Weak  characters,  also,  when  driven  to  anger,  are  always  more 
violent  than  firmer  ones ;  and,  certainly,  Eleanor's  continued 
haughtiness  and  coldness,  as  if  she  were  the  injured  one,  did 
not  tend  to  calm  him. 

And  his  angry  feelings  were  unfortunately  but  too  soon  ag- 
gravated by  a  proposal  in  form  from  Captain  Fortescue  for  the 
hand  of  Eleanor.  Without  a  moment's  delay  he  despatched  a 
decided  and  almost  insulting  refusal  to  the  young  soldier,  and 
then  sought  his  daughter,  and  vented  on  her  the  anger  and  vex- 
ation which  overpowered  him,  upbraiding  her  not  only  with 
the  death  of  Fitzclair,  but  for  having  dared  so  to  encourage 
young  Fortescue  as  to  give  him  courage  for  his  audacious  pro- 
posal. To  his  astonishment,  he  was  heard  without  any  attempt 
at  reply ;  but  he  would  have  been  startled,  could  he  have  seen 
the  pallid  cheek,  compressed  lip,  and  clenched  hand  with  which, 
when  he  had  left  her,  Elearnor  muttered  — 

"  Father,  if  it  be  sin  to  leave  you,  be  it  on  your  own  head.  I 
would  have  wedded  with  your  consent,  had  you  permitted  it ; 
but  now  my  destiny  is  fixed.  There  is  no  peace  in  England : 
at  least  let  me  be  spared  the  agony  of  breaking  another  loving 
heart." 

Nearly  three  weeks  rolled  on,  and  Eleanor's  extraordinary 
submission,  and  even  in  some  degree  withdrawal  from  society, 
(for  which  Mrs.  Hamilton's  arrival  was  a  good  excuse,)  caused 
her  father's  irritation  against  her  almost  entirely  to  subside. 
That  she  passed  several  hours  each  day  apart  from  her  sister, 
excited  no  surprise.  Emrneline  was  thankful  even  for  her 
change  of  deportment,  but  nothing  confidential  ever  again  passed 
between  them.  That  reports  were  floating  about,  connecting 
the  names  of  Miss  Manvers  and  the  late  Lord  Fitzclair,  seemed 
little  heeded  by  Eleanor,  though  they  caused  natural  vexation 
to  her  family.  About  this  time  an  invitation  arrived  for  Elea- 
nor from  a  lady  of  rank,  slightly  known  to  her  father,  and  living 
ten  miles  from  Cheltenham,  in  a  beautiful  villa,  at  which  she 
expected  a  select  party  of  fashionables  to  ruralize  for  a  week  or 
MVO.  There  was  nothing  in  the  note  to  excite  the  dread  that 
weighed  on  Mrs.  Hamilton's  spirits,  as  Eleanor  carelessly  threw 
it  to  her  for  her  perusal,  but  she  would  not  express  it,  as  Lord 
Dclrnont  seemed  inclined  that  Eleanor  should  accept  it,  know- 
ing that  the  lady  was  much  too  exclusive  for  Captain  Fortescue 
'o  join  her  guests,  and  believing  that  Eleanor's  apparent  indir' 


HOME    INFLUENCE.  37 

fei  encc  to  the  visit  originated  from  that  cause.  Telling  her  he 
was  so  gratified  by  her  having  devoted  so  many  evenL-igs  to 
her  sister,  he  added,  she  had  his  full  consent  to  go  if  she  liked, 
as  he  could  better  spare  her  than  when  Emrneline  returned  to 
Oakwood.  She  quietly  thanked  him,  but  evinced  no  particular 
pleasure. 

The  day  before  her  intended  departure,  the  sisters  were  sit- 
ting together,  and  little  Percy,  who  now  ran  firmly  without  any 
falls,  was  playing  about  the  room.  He  had  already  displayed 
a  high  spirit  and  passionate  temper,  with  their  general  accoin 
panirnent,  self-will,  even  in  trifles,  that  Mrs.  Hamilton  felt 
would  render  her  task  a  trying  one ;  but  she  was  as  firm  as 
she  was  gentle,  and  faced  the  pain  of  contradicting  her  darling 
bravely :  — 

"Do  not  touch  that,  Percy,  love,"  she  said,  as  her  little  boy 
stretched  out  his  hand  toward  a  beautiful  but  fragile  toy,  that 
stood  with  other  knickknacks  on  a  low  table.  The  child  looked 
laughingly  and  archly  toward  her,  and  withdrew  his  hand,  but 
did  not  move  from  the  table. 

"  Come  here,  Percy,  you  have  not  played  with  these  pretty 
things  for  a  long  time ; "  and  she  took  from  her  Avork-box  some 
gayly  colored  ivory  balls,  which  had  been  his  favorite  playthings, 
but  just  at  present  they  had  lost  their  charm,  and  the  young 
gentleman  did  not  move. 

Mrs.  Hamilton  knelt  down  by  him,  and  said  quietly : 

"  My  Percy  will  not  disobey  mamma,  will  he  ?  " 

"Me  want  that;"  he  replied,  in  the  pretty  coaxing  tone  of 
infancy;  and  he  twined  his  little  round  arms  caressingly  round 
her  neck. 

Mrs.  Hamilton  felt  very  much  tempted  to  indulge  him,  but 
she  resisted  it. 

"  But  that  is  not  a  fit  plaything  for  you,  love  ;  besides,  it  is 
not  mine,  and  we  must  not  touch  what  is  not  ours.  Come  and 
see  if  we  cannot  find  something  just  as  pretty,  that  you  may 
have." 

And  after  some  minutes'  merry  play  in  her  lap  his  mcther 
hoped  he  had  forgotten  it ;  but  the  little  gentleman  was  not, 
he  thought,  to  be  so  governed.  The  forbidden  plaything  was 
quietly  grasped,  and  he  seated  himself  on  the  ground,  in  silent 
but  triumphant  glee. 

Surprised  at  his  sudden  silence,  Mrs.  Hamilton  looked  toward 
him.  It  was  his  first  act  of  decided  disobedience,  and  she 
knew  she  must  not  waver.  Young  as  he  was,  he  had  already 
learned  to  know  wlicr  she  wa-s  displeased,  and  when  she  de- 


38  HOME    INFLUENCE. 

sired  him  very  gravely  to  give  her  the  toy,  he  passionately 
threw  it  down,  and  burst  into  a  violent  fit  of  crying.  His  nurse 
fook  him  struggling  from  the  room,  and  Mrs.  Hamilton  quietly 
resumed  her  work ;  but  there  was  such  an  expression  of  pain 
in  her  countenance,  that  Eleanor  exclaimed, 

"Emmeline!  I  have  been  watching  you  for  the  last  half 
hour,  and  I  cannot  comprehend  you.  Do  explain  yourself." 

"  I  will  if  I  can ;  "  and  Mrs.  Hamilton  looked  up,  and  smiled. 

;'  Why  would  you  not  let  that  poor  little  Percy  have  tluu 
toy?" 

"  Because  it  would  have  been  encouraging  his  touching  or 
taking  every  thing  he  sees,  whether  proper  for  him  or  not." 

"  But  he  could  not  understand  that." 

"  Not  now,  perhaps  ;  but  I  wish  him  to  know  that  when  I 
speak,  he  must  obey  me.  It  is,  I  think,  a  mistaken  doctrine, 
that  we  ought  to  give  children  a  reason  for  all  we  desire  them 
to  do.  Obedience  can  then  never  be  prompt,  as  it  ought  to  be. 
And,  in  fact,  if  we  wait  until  they  are  old  enough  to  under- 
stand the  reasons  for  a  command,  the  task  will  be  much  more 
difficult,  from  the  ascendency  which  wilfulness  may  already 
have  obtained." 

"  But  then  why  were  you  so  cruel  as  to  send  the  poor  child 
up-stairs  ?  "Was  it  not  enough  to  take  the  toy  from  him  ?  " 

"  Not  quite  ;  for  him  to  remember  that  he  must  not  touch  it 
again." 

"And  do  you  really  think  he  will  not  ?  " 

"  I  can  only  hope  so,  Eleanor  ;  but  I  must  not  be  disheart- 
ened if  he  do.  He  is  an  infant  still,  and  I  cannot  expect  him 
to  learn  such  a  difficult  lesson  as  obedience  in  one,  two,  or  six 
lessons." 

"And  will  he  love  you  as  much  as  if  you  had  given  it  tc 
him  ?  " 

"Not  at  the  moment,  perhaps,  but  when  he  is  older  he  will 
love  me  more.  And  it  is  that  hope  which  reconciles  me  to  the 
pain  which  refusing  to  indulge  him  costs  me  now." 

"And  voluntarily  you  will  bear  the  pain  which  had  almost 
brought  tears  into  the  eyes  of  the  severe  and  stoical  Mrs.  Ham- 
ilton I "  exclaimed  Eleanor. 

i;  It  was  a  foolish  weakness,  my  dear  Eleanor,  for  which  my 
husband  would  have  chidden  me  ;  but  there  must  be  pain  to  a 
mother  if  called  upon  to  exert  authority,  when  inclination  sr. 
strongly  points  to  indulgence." 

'*  Well,  if  ever  I  have  any  thing  to  do  with  children,  I  c  er- 
Uiinly  shall  not  be  half  as  particular  as  you  are,  Emmeline.  J 


HOME  INFLUENCE.  39 

i  eally  cannot  imagine  what  harm  gratifying  myself  and  Percy 
lould  possibly  have  done." 

"  If  ever  you  have  children,  my  dear  Eleanor,  may  you  have 
strength  of  mind  and  self-control  sufficient  to  forget  self,  and 
refuse  the  gratification  of  the  present  moment  for  the  welfare 
of  future  years  ! " 

Mrs.  Hamilton  spoke  impressively,  and  something,  either  in 
her  words  or  tone,  caused  the  blood  to  rush  into  Eleanor's 
cheeks,  and  she  hastily  walked  to  the  window  ;  then,  as  abruptly 
returning,  she  kissed  her  sister,  a  very  rare  token  of  affection, 
and  declaring  she  was  much  too  good  for  her  to  understand, 
quitted  the  room. 

The  following  day,  dressed  for  her  visit,  and  only  waiting  for 
the  carriage,  Eleanor,  accompanied  by  Mrs.  Hamilton  and  her 
little  boys,  entered  the  same  apartment.     Though  not  in  general 
fond  of  nursing,  Eleanor  had  taken  Herbert  in  her  arms,  and 
was  playing  with  him  with  unusual  fondness  ;  Percy,  who  had 
not  seen  the  tempting  plaything  since  his  banishment  the  pre- 
ceding day,  the  moment  his  eye  caught  it,  to   the  astonishment 
of  Eleanor,  ran  up  to  his  mother,  and  lisping,  "  Me  no  touch 
that  —  Percy  good  boy  now,"  held  up  his  little  face  lovingly  to 
hers,  and  with  a  very  pardonable  feeling  of  delight,  Mrs.  Ham- 
ilton lifted  him  up  and  covered  him  with  kisses.     The  feelings 
which  thrilled  through  Eleanor  at  that  moment  she  might  in- 
deed have  found  it  difficult  to  explain,  but  she  was  so  conscious 
of  a  change  of  countenance  as   to  hide  her  face  on  Herbert's 
head.     It  might  have  been  obedience  and  disobedience  brought 
so  suddenly  and  strangely  in  contrast  —  and  who  were  the 
actors  ?  an  infant  and  herself.     For  a  minute   she  recovered, 
stricken  with  sudden  and  agonized  remorse ;  but  it  was  too 
late,  she  had  gone  too  far,  and  the  announcement  of  the  car- 
riage was  a  relief  from  that  bitter  moment  of  painful  indecision. 
Placing  her  baby  nephew  in  his  nurse's  arms,  she  said,  caress- 
ingly, "  Will  not  Percy  give  Lina  some  of  those  kisses  as  well 
as  rnamma  ?  "     The  child  threw  one  little  arm  round  her  neck, 
and  the  other  round  that  of  his  mother,  and  then  burst  into  a 
merry  laugh  at  thus  seeing  himself  as  it  were   a  link  between 
them.     Never  had  it  seemed  to  Eleanor  that  she  had  loved  and 
admired  her  sister  as  she  did  at  that  moment ;  all  the  neglect, 
unkindness,  she  had  shown  her,  all  the  sarcasm  and  satire,  of 
which,  either  before  or  behind  her,  she  had  so  often  made  her 
the  victim,  combined  with  an  intense,  but   how  painfully  vain 
longing  to  have  resembled  her  in  the  remotest  degree,   rather 
than  be  the  character  which  had  never  before  appeared  so  de- 


40  HOME    INFLUENCE. 

graded,  so  hateful  —  almost  overpowered  her —  u  convulsive 
sob  escaped  her  as  she  clasped  Emmeline  in  a  close  embrace, 
and  almost  choked  her  hurried  good-by  !  Lord  Delmont  and 
Mr.  Hamilton  were  in  the  hall,  and  the  former  was  surprised 
and  delighted  at  the  warmth  with  which  his  usually  reckless 
child  returned  his  kiss  and  farewell ;  the  carriage  drove  off' 
leaving  unusual  hope  and  cheerfulness  behind  it.  Alas !  iu 
one  short  fortnight  every  rising  hope  was  blighted,  Emmeline'a 
momentary  dread  fulfilled,  and  Lord  Delmont  experiencing,  in 
i\ll  its  agony, 

"  How  sharper  than  a  serpent's  tooth  it  is, 
To  have  a  thankless  child !  " 


CHAPTER    V. 

A.    HEART     AND     HOME    IN    ENGLAND. A    HEART    AND    IIOMK 

IN    INDIA. 

FROM  the  moment  Arthur  Hamilton  returned  to  Chelten- 
ham with  the  painful  intelligence  that  he  had  arrived  at  Leith 
only  in  time  to  witness  the  departure  of  the  beautiful  vessel 
which  contained  Captain  Fortescue  and  the  exquisitely  lovely 
bride  who  had,  it  seemed,  turned  the  heads  of  all  the  usually 
quiet  Scotsmen  who  had  seen  her,  Lord  Delmont  gradually 
sunk.  The  agony  of  losing  her  forever  —  for  so  he  regarded 
her  departure  for,  and  residence  in  India  for  an  indeterminate 
time  —  conquered  every  other  feeling.  Her  conduct  had 
caused  emotions  of  anguish  far  too  deep  for  the  relieving  sen- 
sation of  anger.  The  name  of  the  lady  from  whose  house  and 
by  whose  connivance  she  had  eloped,  he  was  never  heard  to 
breathe ;  but,  if  ever  casually  mentioned  before  him,  every 
feature  would  become  convulsed,  and  he  would  instantly  leave 
the  room.  Often  and  often  he  accused  his  own  harshness  as 
the  cause  of  driving  her  from  him,  and  then  came,  with  over- 
whelming bitterness,  the  thought  that  if  he  had  lately  been 
harsh,  surely  the  recollection  of  all  the  indulgent  fondness  he 
had  shown  demanded  some  gratitude  in  return.  If  she  hat! 
but  written,  had  but  expressed  one  wish  for  his  continued  love, 
i>ne  regret  for  his  present  pain  !  But  no  letter  came,  and  the 
contending  but  all -depressing  emotions  so  completely  under 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  41 

mined  a  constitution  never  very  strong,  and  already  worn  by 
care,  that  when  another  and  still  heavier  trial  came,  he  sunk 
at  once  beneath  it. 

Though  Eleanor  had  been  his  favorite,  his  feelings  of  pride 
and  hope  had  greatly  centred  in  his  son,  whose  career,  in  five 
years'  active  service  on  board  a  man-of-war  had  been  such  as 
to  raise  him  already  to  a  lieutenancy,  and  excite  every  grati- 
fying emotion,  not  only  in  his  immediate  family,  but  in  a  large 
circle  of  admiring  friends.  Mrs.  Hamilton's  love  for  her 
brother  had  naturally  increased,  strong  as  it  always  had  been, 
even  in  childhood  —  and  the  visits  which  Charles  had  been 
enabled  to  make  to  Oakwood,  brief  in  duration  as  they  were 
compelled  to  be,  had  always  been  fraught  with  heartfelt,  joyous 
happiness,  not  only  to  herself  but  to  her  husband.  The  pain 
and  anxiety  attendant  on  Eleanor's  elopement,  and  the  dread 
of  its  effects  on  Lord  Delmont,  had  for  two  or  three  months 
been  the  sole  subject  of  thought ;  but  at  length,  and,  like  a 
fearful  flash  bringing  a  new  sorrow  to  light,  it  pressed  upon 
them  that  it  was  long  after  the  period  that  intelligence  of 
Charles  ought  to  have  been  received.  Still  hoping  against 
hope,  not  only  the  Delmont  family,  but  all  who  had  friends  and 
relatives  on  board  the  Leander,  imagined  that  she  might  have 
drifted  from  her  course,  or  been  engaged  on  some  secret  and 
distant  expedition,  but  that  intelligence  concerning  her  would 
and  must  soon  come.  Alas !  after  months  of  agonizing  sus- 
pense, information  was  received  that  several  planks  and  masts, 
bearing  evidence  of  fire  as  well  as  water,  and  some  sea-chests, 
bearing  names,  only  too  soon  recognized  as  those  of  some  of 
the  Leander's  crew,  had  been  cast  off  the  coast  of  Barbary, 
and  there  could  be  no  more  doubt  that  death  or  slavery  —  that 
fearful  slavery  which  the  bombardment  of  Algiers  had  so  dis- 
played to  European  eyes  —  was  the  portion  of  all  those  be- 
loved ones,  for  whom  so  many  aching  hearts  and  eyes  had 
watched  and  wept  in  vain.  It  was  a  trial  so  terrible  that  Mrs. 
Hamilton  felt  at  first  as  if  even  submission  had  departed  from 
her ;  and  she  could  almost  have  rebelled  in  spirit  against  th« 
inscrutable  decree,  that  had  consigned  one  so  free  from  vice  and 
evil,  so  full  of  happiness  and  worth,  to  a  doom  so  terrible. 
Much  as  she  had  loved  and  reverenced  her  husband  before 
she  seemed  never  to  have  felt  his  worth  and  tenderness  till 
then.  It  was  his  sympathy,  his  strength,  that  recalled  her  to  a 
sense  of  her  duty,  and  gave  her  power  to  endure,  by  a  realiza- 
tion once  more  of  that  submissiveness  to  a  Father's  will,  which 
had  never  before  failed  her.  But  time,  though  it  softened  the 


42  HOME    INFLUENCE. 

first  anguish,  had  no  power  over  the  memories  of  this  broiler, 
not  even  when  the  increasing  cares  and  joys  of  maternity  so 
fully  engrossed  her,  that  the  present  and  the  future  of  her 
children  appeared  to  have  banished  all  of  her  own  past. 

Lord  Delmont  did  not  survive  the  mournful  tidings  of  the 
certain  wreck  of  the  Leander  above  two  months ;  but  his  re- 
leased spirit  did  not  meet  that  of  his  son.  Charles  was  not 
dead.  He  toiled  as  a  slave  long  years  in  living  death  before 
there  wng  even  a  partial  amelioration  of  his  sufferings.  But 
no  tidings  of  him  ever  came  ;  a  young  child  of  three  years  old, 
a  distant  branch  of  the  Manvers  family,  became  Lord  Del- 
mont. 

Years  rolled  on,  and  Mrs.  Hamilton's  lot  was  so  full  of  tran- 
quil happiness,  so  fraught  with  innumerable  daily  joys  of  a  lov- 
ing wife  and  devoted  mother,  that  her  prayer  was  ever  rising 
for  guidance  and  gratitude,  that  prosperity  might  not  unfit  her 
for  the  dark  days  of  trial  and  adversity,  when  they  should 
come.  That  she  had  cares  as  well  as  joys  could  not  be  other- 
wise, when  so  intensely  anxious  to  bring  up  her  children  with 
more  regard  to  their  spiritual  and  moral  welfare  than  even  the 
cultivation  of  their  intellect.  She  was  one  of  those  who  thought 
still  more  of  the  training  of  the  heart  than  of  the  mind,  believ- 
ing that  were  the  first  properly  awakened,  the  latter  would 
need  little  incitement  to  exertion.  Two  girls  hud  been  the  sole 
addition  to  her  family. 

One  other  wish,  and  one  of  many  years'  standing,  Mrs.  Ha- 
milton had  it  in  her  power  to  fulfil.  From  childhood  she  had 
been  accustomed  to  think  of  Lucy  Ilarcourt  as  one,  to  whom  it 
might  one  day  be  in  her  power  to  return  the  heavy  debt  of 
gratitude  she  owed  her  mother;  she  had  been  accustomed  to 
correspond  with  her  from  very  early  years ;  Mrs.  Ilarcourt 
delighting  in  creating  a  mutual  interest  between  her  pupil  and 
the  child  from  whom  circumstances  had  so  sadly  separated  her. 
When  therefore  an  event  of  a  very  painful  nature  to  Miss 
Harcourt's  individual  feelings  compelled  her  —  as  the  only 
hope  of  regaining  peace,  and  strengthening  her  for  the  arduous 
duty  of  instruction,  which  she  knew,  as  a  single  woman,  was 
her  sole  source  of  independent  subsistence  —  she  had  no 
scruple  in  accepting  that  friendship  which  Mrs.  Hamilton  had 
BO  warmly  proffered.  A  very  few  days  of  personal  intercourse 
sufficed  for  mutual  conviction,  that  correspondence  had  not 
deceived  in  the  favorable  impressions  of  either.  Miss  Ilarcourt 
found,  indeed,  the  friend  her  aching  spirit  needed ;  and  Mrs. 
Hamilton,  ling  before  the  months  of  repose  which  she  had 


HOME    INFLUENCE.  43 

insisted  sluuld  forestall  the  commencement  of  exertion  were 
over,  rejoiced  in  the  conviction  that  the  daughter  of  her  beloved 
and  regretted  friend  was  indeed  well  fitted  for  that  position  in 
her  family  —  her  helper  in  the  moral  and  intellectual  training 
of  her  daughters  —  which  her  vivid  fancy  had  often  pictured 
as  so  filled.  They  were  indeed  but  infants  when  Miss  Harcourt 
arrived ;  but  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hamilton  found  means  to  overrule 
the  honorable  scruples  which,  on  the  part  of  Lucy,  seemed  at 
first  against  their  plan,  and  in  her  gradually  returning  health 
and  peace,  Mrs.  Hamilton  not  only  rejoiced,  but  felt  gratefully 
thankful  that  the  wish  of  so  many  years'  standing,  and  which 
had  seemed  so  little  likely  to  be  fulfilled,  was  absolutely 
accomplished,  and  she  could  prove  how  deeply  she  had  loved 
and  mourned  her  truly  maternal  friend.  It  is  astonishing  how 
often,  if  an  earnest,  heartfelt  desire  for  the  gratification  of  some 
good  feeling  or  for  the  performance  of  some  good  deed  be 
steadily  and  unvaryingly  held  before  us,  without  any  regard  to 
its  apparent  impossibility,  its  accomplishment  is  at  length 
obtained.  It  is  supposed  to  be  only  done  so  in  books,  but  this 
is  a  mistaken  supposition,  arising  from  the  simple  fact  of  indi- 
viduals so  often  forgetting  their  own  past,  and  failing  steadily 
to  pursue  one  object,  regardless  of  the  lapse  of  years.  If  they 
looked  into  themselves  more  often  and  more  carefully,  if  they 
sought  consistency  in  desire  and  pursuit,  they  would  often  be 
startled  at  their  connection,  and  that  it  is  not  so  useless  to  wish 
and  seek,  when  both  are  of  such  a  nature  as  can  be  based  on 
and  strengthened  by  prayer,  as  it  may  seem.  Human  life 
presents  as  many  startling  connections  and  contingencies  a:> 
romance  —  only  as  the  actors  not  the  observers  of  this  world':! 
busy  scene,  we  cannot  trace  them  as  we  do  in  books. 

The  thought  of  Eleanor  was  the  only  dark  shade  in  Mrs. 
Hamilton's  life.  She  had  written  to  her  often,  but  communica- 
tion with  India  was  not  then  what  it  is  now,  and  her  letters 
might  not  have  reached  their  destination ;  especially  as  being 
in  active  service.  Captain  Fortescue  was  himself  constantly 
changing  his  quarters.  Whatever  the  cause  (for  Eleanor's  let- 
ters, Mrs.  Hamilton  thought,  might  also  have  miscarried,)  she 
heard  nothing  of  her  till  the  hurried  epistle  commenced  by  her 
sister,  and  finished  by  Mr.  Myrvin,  brought  the  startling  intelli- 
gence that  she  was  a  widow  and  dying,  unable  to  reach  Oak- 
wood,  where  she  had  hoped  at  least  to  have  sufficient  strength 
to  bring  her  children,  and  implore  for  them  protection  and  love, 
and  conjuring  Mrs.  Hamilton  to  come  to  her  without  delay. 
The.  letter,  imperfectly  directed,  had  been  days  on  its  journey 


*•*  HOME   INFLUENCE. 

and  it  was  with  the  most  melancholy  forebodings  Mr.  and  Mrs 
Hamilton  had  started  for  Llangwillan. 

Bat  though  it  was  not  till  many  years  after  Edward  and 
Ellen  Fortescue  became  inmates  of  her  family  that  Mrs.  Hamil- 
ton became  acquainted  with  all  the  particulars  of  their  child- 
hood, it  is  necessary  that  our  readers  should  be  rather  more 
enlightened  ;  otherwise  the  character  of  Ellen  may  be  to  them 
as  unnatural  and  as  incomprehensible  as  it  was  to  her  aunt. 

That  Eleanor  could  realize  true  happiness  in  a  marriage  en 
tered  into  only  because  she  could  not  bear  the  torture  of  her 
own  thoughts,  and  her  constant  dread  of  the  world's  contumely, 
was  not  likely.  At  first,  indeed,  it  was  a  very  delightful  thing 
to  find  herself  the  object  not  only  of  devotion  to  her  husband 
(whom,  could  she  entirely  have  forgotten  Fitzclair,  she  might 
have  really  loved,)  but  a  still  more  brilliant  star  in  India  than 
the  had  even  been  in  England.  Though  Captain  Fortescue 
was  often  engaged  in  marches  and  countermarches,  where 
Eleanor  sometimes,  though  very  rarely,  accompanied  him,  still 
there  were  intervals  of  rest  for  him  in  the  larger  cities,  where 
his  wife  ever  shone  preeminent.  For  the  first  three  or  four 
years,  the  pride  he  felt  in  seeing  her  so  universally  admired,  in 
the  greater  attention  he  received  for  her  sake,  compensated  for, 
or  concealed  the  qualities,  which,  as  a  soldier's  wife,  he  had 
fondly  believed  she  would  possess.  But  as  his  health,  always 
delicate,  became  more  and  more  undermined,  and  compelled 
him  to  relinquish  society,  at  least  in  a  great  measure,  and  to 
look  for  the  quiet  pleasures  of  domestic  life,  he  found,  and  bit- 
ter was  that  first  awakening,  that  his  wishes,  his  comfort,  were 
of  no  importance.  She  could  not  resign  the  pleasures  of  socie- 
ty—  of  still  being  enabled  to  pursue  the  dangerous  amusement 
of  her  girlhood  (though  so  guardedly  that  not  a  rumor  against 
her  ever  found  breath,)  for  the  dulness  of  her  home.  Yet 
still  he  loved  her  ;  and  when  Eleanor,  with  all  the  fascinating 
playfulness  of  her  former  self,  Avould  caress  and  try  to  persuade 
him  to  go  out  with  her,  and  not  sit  moping  at  home,  and  that 
if  he  would,  she  would  behave  just  as  he  liked,  and  if  he  did  not 
care  to  see  her  surrounded,  as  she  knew  she  was,  by  red  coats, 
she  would  dismiss  them  all,  and  devote  herself  to  him  —  but 
indeed  she  could  not  stay  at  home  —  he  would  feel  that  it  would 
be  cruel  indeed  to  chain  such  a  being  to  his  side,  and  sometimes 
make  the  exertion  (for  which  he  was  little  fitted)  to  accompary 
her  ;  at  others,  with  kind  words  and  indulgent  love,  permit  her 
lo  t'ollow  iicr  own  wishes,  and  remain  alone.  But  little  did  he 
think  the  real  reason  that  Eleanor  could  not  rest  in  quiet  al 


HOME    INFLUENCE.  45 

hiine.  The  recollection  of  Lord  Fitzclair  was  at  such  times  so 
fearfully  vivid,  that  the  very  agony  she  had  endured  when  first 
told  of  his  fearful  end  would  return  in  all  its  intensity ;  the 
thought :  Had  her  father  really  cursed  her  for  her  disobedi- 
ence, and  was  it  that  forever  hovering  round  her,  preventing 
any  thing  like  lasting  happiness  !  And  yet,  by  a  strange  con- 
tradiction, while  the  idea  of  her  father's  curse  shook  her  whole 
frame  at  times  with  convulsive  sobs,  pride,  that  most  fatal  in- 
gredient of  her  character,  utterly  prevented  all  attempt  on  her 
part  to  communicate  with  her  relations.  She  said,  as  they  had 
made  no  effort  to  conciliate,  she  would  not ;  and  yet  the  long- 
ing for  Emmeline  sometimes  became  actually  painful. 

Eleanor  was  never  intended  for  the  heartless,  reckless  being 
she  had  tried  to  become.  It  was  a  constant  and  most  terrible 
struggle  between  the  good  and  evil  parts  of  her  nature,  and 
though  the  evil  triumphed  —  in  the  determination  that  nothing 
should  change  her  course  of  action,  nothing  compel  her  to 
acknowledge  she  had  ever  been  in  the  wrong,  and  was  really 
not  the  perfect  creature  which  flattery  was  ever  ready  to  pour 
into  her  ear  —  the  good  had  yet  so  much  power  as  to  make  her 
miserable,  by  the  conviction,  that  she  was  not  what  she  mighl 
have  been  —  that  she  never  could  be  happy  —  that  every  plea- 
sure was  hollow,  every  amusement  vain.  Again  and  again  the 
memories  of  Emmeline's  gentle,  sustaining,  ever-active  piety 
would  come  before  her,  as  if  beseeching  her  to  seek  the  only 
fount  of  peace;  but  so  terrible  was  the  self-reproach,  the  an- 
guish which  the  thought  called  up,  that  she  always  turned  from 
it  with  a  shudder,  resolved  that  religion  was  never  meant  for 
such  as  herself,  and  that  its  restrictions  should  never  enter  her 
mind,  or  its  dictates  pass  her  lips. 

With  the  awakening  intelligence  of  her  son,  however,  there 
seemed  one  pleasure  not  wholly  hollow  —  one  enjoyment  with- 
out the  shadow  of  alloy;  and  she  grasped  it  with  an  avidity 
and  a  constancy,  that  in  a  character  generally  so  wavering  and 
inconsistent  was  almost  incredible.  That  her  son  was  from  hi? 
earliest  infancy  the  image  of  herself,  might  have  added  strength 
to  the  feeling;  but  the  intense  love,  almost  idolatry,  she  felt 
toward  him,  increasing  with  his  growth,  did  much  toward 
banishing  the  unpleasant  feelings  of  remorse  and  home-sickness. 
She  devoted  herself  .to  her  boy,  not  judiciously  indeed,  for  she 
;vas  not  one  to  practise  self-denial  in  education ;  and  as  Ed* 
ward's  disposition  was  not  one  to  cause  her  annoyance,  even 
from  over-indulgence,  there  was  not  even  the  check  of  his  ill 
temper  or  rudeness  toward  herself,  to  whisper  the  fearful  evil 
she  was  engendering. 


<r>  HOMK    INFLUENCE. 

\V  hat  was  xhe  emotion  which  had  so  riveted  her  to  her  sou, 
it  might  have  been  difficult  to  ascertain;  it  could  scarcely  have 
been  the  mere  instinct  of  maternity,  for  then  it  would  have  ex- 
tended to  her  daughter ;  but  as  complete  as  was  her  indulgence 
to  Edward,  so  was  her  neglect  of  Ellen. 

Colonel  Fortescue  (for  he  had  gradually  attained  that  rank) 
had  borne,  without  complaint,  neglect  of  himself;  nay,  it  had 
not  had  power  in  the  least  degree  to  diminish  his  love,  though  it 
might  have  awakened  him  to  the  consciousness  that  his  wife  was 
indeed  not  perfect.  Her  devotion  to  Edward,  even  undertaking 
the  toilsome  task  of  instruction,  had  delighted  him ;  for,  at  first, 
having  been  much  from  home,  he  was  not  conscious  of  the  lonely 
fate  of  his  little  girl ;  but  when  the  truth  became  evident,  that 
she  was  an  object  almost  of  dislike  —  that  she  was  left  entirely 
to  the  tender  mercies  of  a  hireling,  and  Eleanor  only  alluded  to 
her,  to  contrast  her  peevishness  and  stupidity  with  Edward's 
happiness  and  intellect,  all  the  father  was  roused  within  him, 
and,  for  the  first  time,  he  felt  and  expressed  serious  displeasure. 
He  acknowledged  that  his  son  might,  indeed,  be  superior  in 
beauty  and  talent,  but  he  would  not  allow  that  Ellen's  affections 
were  less  warm,  or  her  temper  less  capable  of  guidance.  To 
him,  and  to  all  who  had  in  the  least  attended  to  childhood,  El- 
len's face,  even  from  infancy,  expressed  not  ill-temper,  but  suf- 
fering. Continually  ill,  for  she  inherited  her  father's  constitu- 
tion, the  poor  little  infant  was  constantly  crying  or  fretful; 
which  Eleanor,  never  having  known  what  illness  was,  attributed 
at  once  to  a  naturally  evil  temper  which  annoyed  her.  The 
nurse,  as  ignorant  as  she  was  obsequious,  adopted  the  same 
opinion ;  and,  before  she  was  even  three  years  old,  harshness, 
both  by  nurse  and  mother,  had  been  constantly  used,  to  make 
Ellen  as  good  a  child  as  her  brother. 

In  vain  did  the  Colonel,  when  he  became  aware  of  this  treat- 
ment, remonstrate  that  it  was  the  illness  of  the  poor  child  — 
neither  obstinacy  nor  ill-temper :  his  wife  would  not  understand 
him,  and  at  length  he  sternly  and  peremptorily  declared,  that 
as  she  had  her  will  with  Edward,  he  would  have  his  with  Ellen, 
and  that  no  chastisement  should  be  inflicted.  If  she  did  wrong, 
he  was  to  be  told  of  it,  and  if  necessary  he  would  reprove  her, 
but  he  would  allow  no  other  interference.  Mrs.  Fortescue 
made  rot  the  least  objection,  believing  that  as  her  husband  had 
thus  ta.v?n  her  in  charge,  she  was  exonerated  from  all  blame  if 
ghe  left  her  entirely  to  him. 

Only  too  quickly  did  the  poor  child  discover  that  the  lovely 
hein-r  vhom  she  called  mother,  and  whom  she  loved  so  fondly 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  47 

firtJ  no  love,  no  caress  for  her.  Repeated  i  unishment,  though 
it  had  only  extended  to  her  fifth  year,  had  completely  crushed 
the  gentle,  tender  spirit,  that  had  required  such  judicious  nurs- 
ing; and  combined  with  physical  suffering,  instead  of  deaden- 
ing the  feelings,  as  in  some  dispositions  it  would  have  done,  had 
rendered  them  morbidly  acute  —  an  effect  which  constant  lone- 
liness naturally  deepened.  Her  father's  love  and  caresses  had 
caused  her  to  cling  to  him  so  passionately,  that  every  word  he 
said,  every  request  he  made  her,  was  treasured  and  thought 
upon,  when  he  was  away  from  her,  with  a  tenacity  many  would 
have  fancied  unnatural  in  a  child.  He  taught  her,  though  his 
heart  often  bled  as  he  did  so  (for  what  claim  had  her  mother 
upon  the  feelings  he  sought  to  inculcate,)  to  love,  honor,  and 
obey  her  mother  in  all  things  —  that  if  she  did  so,  she  would  be 
as  liappy  as  Edward  in  time ;  and  Ellen,  though  she  did  not  un- 
derstand him,  obeyed.  But  Colonel  Fortescue  little  imagined 
the  evil  which  was  accruing  from  these  very  natural  lessons. 

Ellen  learned  to  believe  that,  as  her  mother  never  noticed 
her,  except  in  accents  of  anger  or  irritation,  it  must  be  her  own 
fault.  She  longed  to  be  beautiful  and  buoyant  as  Edward  ;  and 
that  she  was  neither,  marked  her  in  her  own  young  mind  as  so 
inferior,  it  was  no  wonder  her  mother  could  not  cares?  or  love 
her.  Had  Edward  presumed  on  his  favoritism,  and  been  un- 
kind or  neglectful,  she  might,  perhaps,  have  envied  more  than 
she  loved  him ;  but  his  disposition  was  naturally  so  noble,  so 
open-hearted,  so  generous,  that  he  always  treated  her  with  af- 
fection, and  would  share  with  her  his  playthings  and  sweets, 
even  while  he  could  not  but  believe  her  in  all  things  his  in- 
ferior ;  and  that  as  such,  of  course,  her  wishes  could  never  cross 
with  his.  Poor  child,  she  scarcely  knew  what  it  was  to  wish, 
except  that  she  might  cling  to  her  mother  as  she  did  to  her 
father,  and  that  she  could  but  be  good  and  beautiful  enough  to 
win  her  love !  The  lesson  of  concealment  of  every  feeling  is 
but  too  easily  and  too  early  learned.  Tears  do  not  flow  even 
from  childhood,  when  always  rudely  checked,  and  angrily  re- 
proved. Affection  cannot  display  itself  unless  called  forth ; 
and  so  the  very  outward  seeming  of  children  is  more  in  a  pa- 
rent's hand  than  mere  superficial  observers  may  believe :  and 
Mrs.  Fortescue  blamed  and  disliked  the  cold  inanimate  exterior 
which  shy  had  never  tried  to  warm. 

Ellen's  extreme  difficulty  in  acquiring  knowledge,  compared 
with  Edward's  extraordinary  quickness,  only  confirmed  her 
painful  conviction  of  her  great  inferiority,  the  impossibility  of 
ber  ever  winning  love  —  and  the  consequent  increased  intensity 


18  HOME   INFLUENCE. 

uf  her  affection  for  her  father  and  brother,  whet  loved  her  not- 
withstanding. That  the  child  herself  could  not  have  defined 
these  sensations  is  true ;  but  that  they  had  existence,  even  be- 
fore she  was  nine  years  old,  and  that  they  influenced  many 
years  of  her  after-life,  causing  error  and  suffering,  and  render- 
ing Mrs.  Hamilton's  task  one  of  pain  and  difficulty,  before  these 
mistaken  influences  could  be  eradicated,  is  equally  so.  The 
power  over  early  years  is  so  immense,  its  responsibility  so  ex 
tensive,  its  neglect  or  abuse  may  indeed  make  the  earnest 
thinker  tremble  ;  less,  perhaps,  for  the  actual  amount  of  general 
evil,  for  that  circumstances  in  after  life  are  sometimes  graciously 
permitted  to  avert,  but  for  individual  suffering  and  individual 
joy  —  and  especially  is  this  the  case  in  the  training  of  girls. 
.More  enduring  in  their  very  fragility  than  boys,  they  may  be 
compared  to  those  precious  metals  which  fire  and  water  and 
pressure  have  no  power  to  break,  but  simply  to  draw  out  to  a 
thinner  and  thinner  thread,  dwindling  more  and  more,  but  to 
its  last  spider-woven  fineness  capable  of  tenuity  and  vitality. 
While  boys,  like  men,  are  often  crushed  at  once  —  the  frame 
of  the  one  and  the  spirit  of  the  other  equally  unable  to  endure. 


CHAPTER    VI. 

DOMESTIC    DISCORD    AND    ITS    END. 

THE  displeasure  of  her  husband,  his  reproaches  for  her  con- 
duct to  Ellen,  by  causing  some  degree  of  annoyance,  increased 
Mrs.  Fortescue's  feelings  of  dislike  toward  the  object  who  had 
caused  it,  and  this  was  soon  afterward  heightened  by  self- 
reproach. 

A  malignant  fever  broke  out  in  the  British  settlement  where 
Colonel  Fortescue  was  stationed ;  his  wife  and  children  were 
with  him,  and,  dreadfully  alarmed,  Eleanor  determined  to  re- 
move with  her  children  to  some  less  unhealthy  spot.  The 
Colonel  willingly  consented ;  but  before  their  hasty  prepara- 
tions were  concluded  Ellen  sickened.  Alarm  for  Edward, 
however,  so  engrossed  the  mother,  that  she  appeared  incapable 
of  any  other  thought.  In  vain  Colonel  Fortescue  urged  that 
his  son  would  be  safe  with  the  friends  who  had  promised  to 
tuke  charge  of  him,  and  who  were  on  the  point  of  leaving  the 


HOWE  INFLUENCE.  49 

city ;  that  there  were  none  on  whom  he  could  depend  so  to 
tend  the  little  sufferer  as  not  to  require  a  guiding  head,  and  she 
knew  how  impossible  it  was  for  him  to  be  with  his  child  as  his 
heart  prompted.  He  urged,  entreated,  commanded  in  vain, 
Mrs.  Fortescue  was  inexorable.  She  declared  that  the  idea 
of  her  son  being  away  from  her  at  such  a  time  would  drive  her 
mad  ;  and  as  for  duty,  one  child  demanded  her  care  as  much  as 
another ;  that  her  husband  might  not  care  about  thus  exposing 
her  to  infection,  but  she  really  thought,  for  Edward's  sake,  it 
was  her  duty  to  take  care  of  herself.  It  might  be  nothing  to 
the  Colonel  or  Ellen  whether  she  lived  or  died,  but  to  Edward 
it  was  a  great  deal ;  and  so  as  she  must  choose  between  them, 
she  would  go  with  him  who  loved  her  best,  and  who  would  be 
miserable  without  her.  The  haughty,  angry  tone  with  which 
she  spoke,  the  unjust  taunt,  roused  every  indignant  feeling,  and 
Colonel  Fortescue  said  more  in  that  moment  of  irritation  than 
he  could  have  believed  possible.  But  it  only  awakened  the 
cold,  sustaining  pride  which  Eleanor  always  called  to  her  aid 
when  conscience  smote  her,  and  she  departed  with  her  son, 
hardening  every  better  feeling,  and  rousing  anger  against  her 
husband  and  child  to  conquer  the  suffering  of  self-reproach. 
But  when  many  miles  from  the  city  of  death,  and  there  were 
no  fears  for  Edward,  anxiety  and  wretchedness  so  assailed  her, 
that  pride  itself  gave  way.  To  communicate  with  the  infected 
city  was  difficult,  and  very  infrequent,  and  again  and  again  did 
she  wish  that  she  had  remained. 

During  the  continuance  of  Ellen's  illness  her  father's  anguish 
was  indeed  terrible.  Every  leisure  moment  he  spent  by  her 
side,  moistening  her  parched  lips,  bathing  her  burning  forehead, 
and  listening  to  the  plaintive  accents  of  delirium  with  an  acute- 
ness  of  suffering,  that  injured  his  own  health  more  than  he  had 
the  least  idea  of.  The  attendants  were  really  both  kind  and 
skilful,  but  the  Colonel  fancied,  when  he  was  not  with  her,  she 
was  neglected,  and  in  still  greater  suffering;  and  the  struggle 
between  his  duties  and  his  child  was  almost  more  than  he  could 
bear.  He  had  never  been  a  religious  man  —  never  known  what 
it  was  to  pray,  except  in  the  public  services  of  his  regiment : 
but  now  prayer,  earnest,  heartfelt,  poured  from  him ;  and  the 
thankfulness  to  God,  which  so  overpowered  him  when  she  was 
pronounced  out  of  danger,  as  to  compel  him  to  weep  like  a 
child,  planted  a  sense  of  a  Father's  infinite  love  and  infinite 
compassion  within  him,  which  was  his  sole  sustainer  the  short 
vemainder  of  his  life. 

Eleanor's  letters,  few  as  they  were,  had  in  some  degree  soft 


50  HOME   INFLUENCE. 

ened  liis  anger  toward  her;  but  as  he  beheld  the  ravages  of 
disease  on  his  poor  child's  face  and  form,  rendering  her  still  kse 
attractive  than  she  had  been,  and  perceived  that  bodily  weak- 
ness had  extended  to  her  mind,  and  often  and  often  forced  tears 
from  her  eyes  and  momentary  complainings,  he  trembled  lest 
Eleanor  should  find  still  more  to  dislike  and  reprove ;  and  often 
his  heart  bled  as  Ellen  would  ask  with  tears,  for  her  dear 
mamma,  adding,  plaintively,  "  Mamma  never  kisses  me  or  loves 
me  as  she  does  Edward ;  but  I  like  to  be  near  her,  and  look  at 
her  dear  beautiful  face,  and  wish  I  was  good  and  pretty  enough 
for  her  to  love  me.  Why  does  she  never  come  to  me  ?  —  and 
why  may  I  not  go  to  her?" 

And  what  could  the  Colonel  reply,  except  that  her  mother 
feared  Edward  would  take  the  infection,  and  therefore  she  was 
obliged  to  go  with  him  to  some  place  of  safety?  And  his  child 
was  satisfied,  repeating  so  fondly  her  delight  that  her  dear,  dear 
Edward  had  been  saved  from  being  as  ill  as  she  was,  that  her 
father  elapsed  her  closer  and  closer  to  his  heart,  feeling  the  in- 
trinsic beauty  of  a  disposition  that,  instead  of  repining  that  she 
was  left  alone  to  suffer,  could  rejoice  that  her  brother  had  been 
spared. 

Colonel  Fortescue  obtained  a  few  weeks'  leave,  that  he  might 
take  his  child  to  the  seaside  as  recommended,  ere  she  joined 
her  mother.  And  alone  with  him,  gradually  regaining  a  mode- 
rate degree  of  strength,  Ellen  was  very  happy ;  but  such  bright 
intervals  were  indeed  few  and  far  between.  There  was  no 
change  in  her  mother's  conduct  toward  her,  when  reunited. 
Her  heart  had  indeed  risen  to  her  lips  as  she  again  beheld  th« 
child  so  nearly  lost;  and  had  she  followed  impulse,  she  would 
have  clasped  her  in  her  arms  and  wept  over  her,  but  that  would 
have  seemed  tacitly  to  acknowledge  that  she  had  been  wrong, 
and  had  suffered  from  it;  and  so  she  refrained,  causing  suffer- 
ing to  herself,  anguish  to  her  child,  and  pain  to  her  husband, 
all  from  that  fell  demon,  pride.  She  only  chose  to  remember 
that  it  was  Ellen  who  had  been  the  cause  of  her  husband's 
anger —  Ellen,  the  constant  subject  of  contention  between  them 
—  Ellen,  always  causing  the  pang  of  self-reproach :  and  so  how 
was  it  possible  that  she  could  love  her? 

About  a  year  after  Ellen's  dangerous  illness,  when  she  was 
nearly  ten,  and  Edward  just  eleven,  Colonel  Fortescue  was  or- 
dered to  take  command  of  some  troops  to  be  stationed  at  a  fort, 
whose  vicinity  to  some  hostile  natives  rendered  it  rather  a  posl 
of  danger.  The  wives  and  children  of  the  officers  were  per- 
mitted to  accompany  them,  if  they  wished  it,  and,  pxcept  in  I  In 


HOME    INFLUENCE.  51 

Colonel's  own  family,  there  had  been  no  hesitation  in  their 
choice.  The  Colonel  was  strangely  and  painfully  depressed  as 
with  some  vague  dread,  and  all  his  affection  for  his  wife  had 
returned  with  such  force  as  to  make  him  shrink  in  unusual  suf- 
fering from  the  idea  of  leaving  her ;  and  conquering  reluctance, 
for  he  felt  as  if  she  would  not  accede,  he  implored  her  to  ac- 
company him,  confessing  he  felt  ill  and  unhappy,  and  shrank 
from  a  separation.  His  wife  looked  at  him  with  astonishment ; 
lie  had  never  asked  nor  thought  of  such  a  thing  before,  she  said. 
in  their  many  brief  partings,  and  she  really  could  not  under- 
stand him.  The  place  was  decidedly  unhealthy,  and  Edward 
must  not  be  exposed  to  its  malaria;  besides  which,  she  had 
promised  him  to  go  to  a  juvenile  ball,  which  was  given  by  an 
English  family  of  rank,  in  a  fortnight's  time,  and  she  could  not 
possible  disappoint  him ;  and  why  her  husband  should  wish  for 
iier  in  such  a  place  she  could  not  imagine,  but  she  knew  she 
should  die  of  terror  before  she  had  been  there  a  week.  Not  a 
word  did  the  Colonel  utter  in  reply,  but  he  felt  as  if  an  ice-bolt 
had  struck  his  heart  and  frozen  it  at  once.  He  fixed  his  eyes 
upon  her,  with  a  strange,  sad,  reproaching  look,  which  haunted 
her  till  her  death,  and  turning  from  her,  sought  the  room  where 
Ellen  was  preparing  her  lessons  for  the  joyful  hour  when  he 
could  attend  to  her.  As  she  sprung  toward  him  with  a  cry  of 
glee,  he  clasped  her  to  his  bosom,  without  the  power  of  uttering 
a  sound,  save  a  groan  so  deep  and  hollow,  that  the  child's  un- 
usual glee  was  checked,  and  she  clung  to  him  in  terror;  and 
when  he  could  tell  her  that  he  was  about  to  leave  her,  and  for 
an  indefinite  time,  her  passionate  grief  seemed  almost  to  com- 
fort him,  by  its  strong  evidence  of  her  childish  love. 

"  Let  me  go  with  you,  papa,  dear  papa !  oh !  I  will  be  so 
good  —  I  will  not  give  you  any  trouble,  indeed,  indeed  I  will 
not.  Pray,  pray,  take  me  with  you,  dear,  dear  papa !  "  And 
she  looked  in  his  face  so  beseechingly,  that  the  colonel  had  no 
strength  to  resist,  and  fondly  kissing  her,  he  promised  that  if 
Mrs.  Cameron  would  permit  her  to  join  her  little  family,  she 
phould  go  with  him ;  and,  to  Ellen's  intense  thankfulness,  the 
permission  was  willingly  accorded. 

Mrs.  Fortescue  had  indeed  replied,  when  her  husband  briefly 
imparted  his  intention,  that  he  certainly  must  intend  Ellen  to 
bo  ill  again,  by  exposing  her  to  such  an  unhealthy  climate  ;  and 
that  if  she  were,  he  must  not  be  angry  if  she  refused  to  go  and 
nurse  her,  as  it  would  be  all  his  weak  indulgence,  and  no  fault 
of  hers.  The  Colonel  made  no  answer,  and,  irritated  beyond 
measure  at  his  manner,  Eleanor  parted  from  her  husband  in 
coldnoss  and  in  pride. 


52  HOME  INFLUENCE. 

The  fortnight  passed,  and  Mrs.  Fortescue  felt  as  if  her  own 
youth  were  indeed  renewed,  the  longings  for  universal  admira- 
tion again  her  own ;  but  now  it  was  only  for  her  son,  and  her 
triumph  was  complete ;  many  and  lovely  were  the  youthful 
beings  called  together  on  that  festive  night,  seeming  as  if  Eng- 
land had  concentrated  her  fairest  and  purest  offspring  in  that 
far  distant  land  ;  but  Edward,  and  his  still  lovely  mother,  out- 
shone them  all.  That  she  was  herself  admired  as  much,  if  not 
more,  than  she  had  ever  been  in  her  palmy  days  of  triumph, 
Eleanor  scarcely  knew ;  her  every  feeling  was  centred  in  her 
boy,  and  consequently  the  supercilious  haughtiness  which  had 
so  often  marred  her  beauty  in  former  days  was  entirely  laid 
aside,  and  maternal  pride  and  pleasure  gratified  to  the  utmost, 
added  a  new  charm  to  her  every  movement  and  every  word. 
She  heard  the  universal  burst  of  admiration  which  greeted  her, 
as  to  oblige  Edward  she  went  through  a  quadrille  with  him, 
and  never  in  her  whole  career  had  she  felt  so  triumphant,  so 
proud,  so  joyous.  During  the  past  fortnight  she  had  often  been 
tormented  by  self-reproach,  and  her  husband's  look  had  disa- 
greeably haunted  her ;  but  this  night  not  a  fleeting  thought  of 
either  the  Colonel  or  Ellen  entered  her  mind,  and  her  pleasure 
was  complete. 

Tired  with  dancing,  and  rather  oppressed  with  the  heat,  El- 
eanor quitted  the  crowded  ball-room,  and  stood  for  a  few  mi- 
nutes quite  alone  in  a  solitary  part  of  the  veranda,  which,  cov- 
ered with  lovely  flowers,  ran  round  the  house.  The  music  in 
the  ball-room  sounded  in  the  distance  as  if  borne  by  the  night 
breeze  in  softened  harmony  over  the  distant  hills.  The  moon 
was  at  the  full,  and  lit  up  nearly  the  whole  garden  with  the 
refulgence  of  a  milder  day.  At  that  moment  a  cold  chill  crept 
over  the  heart  and  frame  of  Eleanor,  causing  her  breath  to 
come  thick  and  gaspingly.  Why,  she  knew  not,  for  there  was 
nothing  visible  to  cause  it,  save  that,  in  one  part  of  the  garden, 
a  cluster  of  dark  shrubs,  only  partly  illuminated  by  the  rays  of 
the  moon,  seemed  suddenly  to  have  assumed  the  shape  of  a 
funeral  bier,  covered  with  a  military  pall.  At  the  same  mo- 
ment the  music  in  the  ball-room  seemed  changed  to  the  low 
wailing  plaint  and  muffled  drums,  the  military  homage  to  some 
mighty  dead.  And  if  it  were  indeed  but  excited  fancy,  it  had 
a  strange  effect,  for  Eleanor  fainted  on  the  marble  floor. 

That  same  afternoon  Colonel  Fortescue,  with  some  picked 
men,  had  set  off  to  discover  the  track  of  some  marauding 
natives,  who  for  some  days  had  been  observed  hovering  about 
the  neighborhood.  Military  ardor  carried  him  farther  than  he 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  i>3 

X 

intended,  and  it  was  nearly  night,  when  entering  a  narrow 
defile,  a  large  body  of  the  enemy  burst  upon  them,,  and  a  des- 
perate contest  ensued.  The  defile  was  so  hemmed  in  with 
rock  and  mountain,  that  though  not  very  distant  from  the  fort, 
Ihe  noise  of  the  engagement  had  not  been  distinguished.  Cap- 
tain Cameron  was  quietly  sitting  with  his  wife  and  elder  child- 
~en,  awaiting  without  any  forebodings  the  return  of  the  Colonel. 
Though  it  was  late,  Ellen's  fears  had  been  so  visible,  that  Mrs. 
Cameron  could  not  send  her  to  bed  ;  the  child  seemed  so  rest- 
ess  and  uneasy  that  the  Captain  had  tried  to  laugh  her  out  of 
her  cowardice,  as  he  called  it,  declaring  that  her  father  would 
disown  her  if  she  could  not  be  more  brave.  Hasty  footsteps 
were  at  length  heard  approaching,  and  Ellen  started  from  her 
seat  and  sprung  forward,  as  the  door  opened ;  but  it  was  not 
the  Colonel,  only  a  sergeant,  who  had  accompanied  him,  and 
whose  face  caused  Captain  Cameron  to  exclaim,  in  alarm, 
"How  now,  Sergeant  Allen,  returned  and  alone;  what  has 
chanced  ?  " 

"  The  worst  those  brown  devils  could  have  done  !  "  was  the 
energetic  reply.  "  We've  beaten  them,  and  we  will  beat  them 
again,  the  villains !  but  that  will  not  bring  him  back  —  Cap- 
tain —  Captain,  the  Colonel's  down ! " 

The  Captain  started  from  his  chair,  but  before  he  could  frame 
another  word,  Ellen  had  caught  hold  of  the  old  man's  arm. 
and  wildly  exclaimed,  "  Do  you  mean  —  do  you  mean,  pray 
tell  me,  Sergeant  Allen !  —  Have  the  natives  met  papa's 
troop,  and  have  they  fought?  —  and  —  is  he  hurt  —  is  he 
killed  ?  "  The  man  could  not  answer  her  —  for  her  look  and 
tone,  he  afterward  declared  to  his  comrades,  went  through  his 
heart,  just  for  all  the  world  like  a  sabre-cut ;  and  for  the  mo- 
ment neither  Captain  nor  Mrs.  Cameron  could  address  her. 
The  shock  seemed  to  have  banished  voice  from  all  save  from 
the  poor  child  principally  concerned. 

"  Stay  with  me,  my  dear  Ellen  !  "  Mrs.  Cameron  at  length 
said,  advancing  to  her,  as  she  stood  still  clinging  to  the  ser- 
geant's arm  :  '-'  the  Captain  will  go  and  meet  your  father,  and 
if  he  be  wounded,  we  will  nurse  him  together,  dearest !  Stay 
with  me." 

"No,  no,  no!"  was  the  agonized  reply;  "let  me  go  to  him 
he  may  die  before  they  bring  him  here,  and  I  shall  never  fee 
his  kiss  or  hear  him  bless  me  again.  He  told  me  he  should 
fall  in  battle  —  oh!  Mrs.  Cameron,  pray  let  me  go  to  him." 

And  they  who  knew  all  which  that  father  was  to  his  poor 
Kllen,  could  not  resist  that  appeal.  The  sergeant  said  tht 
4 


54  HOME   INFLUENCE. 

Colonel  was  not  dead,  but  so  mortally  wounded  they  feared  to 
move  hiiJ.  It  was  a  fearful  scene.  Death  in  its  most  horrid 
form  was  all  around  her ;  her  little  feet  were  literally  deluged 
in  blood,  and  she  frequently  stumbled  over  the  dusky  forms 
and  mangled  and  severed  limbs  that  lay  on  the  grass,  but 
neither  sob  nor  cry  escaped  her  till  she  beheld  her  father.  His 
men  had  removed  him  from  the  immediate  scene  of  slaughter, 
and  tried  to  form  a  rough  pallet  of  military  cloaks,  but  the 
ghastly  countenance,  which  the  moon's  light  rendered  still 
more  fixed  and  pallid,  the  rigidity  of  his  limbs,  all  seemed  to 
denote  they  had  indeed  arrived  too  late,  and  that  terrible  still- 
ness was  bi'oken  by  the  convulsed  and  passionate  sobs  cf  the 
poor  child,  who,  flinging  herself  beside  him,  besought  him  only 
to  open  his  eyes,  to  look  upon  her  once  more,  to  call  her  his  dar- 
ling, and  kiss  her  once,  only  once  again :  and  it  seemed  as  if 
her  voice  had  indeed  power  to  recall  the  fluttering  soul.  The 
heavy  eyes  did  unclose,  the  clenched  hand  relaxed  to  try  and 
clasp  his  child,  and  he  murmured  feebly  — 

"  How  came  you  here,  my  poor  darling  Ellen  ?  are  friends 
here  ?  —  is  that  Cameron's  voice  ?  "  The  Captain  knelt  down 
by  him  and  convulsively  pressed  his  hand,  but  he  could  not 
speak. 

"  God  bless  you,  Cameron !  Take  my  poor  child  to  her 
mother  —  implore  her  —  to  —  and  it  is  to-night,  this  very 
night  —  she  and  my  boy  are  happy  —  and  I  —  and  my  poor 
Ellen — "  A  fearful  convulsion  choked  his  voice,  but  after  a 
little  while  he  tried  to  speak  again  — 

"  My  poor  child,  I  have  prepared  you  for  this  ;  but  I  know 
you  must  grieve  for  me.  Take  my  blessing  to  your  brother, 
tell  him  to  protect  —  love  your  mother,  darling !  she  must  love 
you  at  last  —  a  ring  —  my  left  hand  —  take  it  to  her  —  oh  ! 
how  I  have  loved  her  —  God  have  mercy  on  her  —  on  my 
poor  children ! "  He  tried  to  press  his  lips  again  on  Ellen's 
cheek  and  brow,  but  the  effort  was  vain  —  and  at  the  very 
moment  Mrs.  Fortescue  had  stood  transfixed  by  some  unknown 
terror,  her  husband  ceased  to  breathe. 

It  was  long  before  Ellen  rallied  from  that  terrible  scene. 
Even  when  the  fever  which  followed  subsided,  and  she  had 
been  taken,  apparently  perfectly  restored  to  health,  once  more 
to  her  mother  and  brother,  its  recollection  so  haunted  her,  that 
her  many  lonely  hours  became  fraught  with  intense  suffering. 
Her  imagination,  already  only  too  morbid,  dwelt  again  and 
tsgain  upon  the  minutest  particular  of  that  field  of  horror ;  not 
July  her  father,  but  tJ-:3  objects  which,  when  her  whole  heart 


HUME    INFLUENCE.  55 

•was  wrapped  in  him,  she  seemed  not  even  to  have  seen.  The 
gnastly  heaps  of  dead,  the  severed  limbs,  the  mangled  trunks, 
the  gleaming  faces  all  fixed  in  the  distorted  expressions  with 
which  they  died  —  the  very  hollow  groans  and  louder  cry  of 
pain  which,  as  she  passed  through  the  field,  had  fallen  on  her 
ear  unheeded,  returned  to  the  poor  child's  too  early  awakened 
fancy  so  vividly,  that  often  and  often  it  was  only  a  powerful 
though  almost  unconscious  effort  that  prevented  the  scream  of 
fear.  Her  father's  last  words  were  never  forgotten  ;  she  would 
not  only  continue  to  love  her  mother  because  he  had  desired 
her  to  do  so,  but  because  he  had  so  loved  her,  and  on  her  first 
return  home  this  seemed  easier  than  ever  to  accomplish.  Mrs 
Fortescue,  tortured  by  remorse  and  grief,  had  somewhat  soft- 
ened toward  the  child  who  had  received  the  last  breath  of  her 
husband ;  and  could  Ellen  have  overcome  the  reserve  and  fear 
which  so  many  years  of  estrangement  had  engendered,  and 
given  vent  to  the  warmth  of  her  nature,  Mrs.  Fortescue  might 
have  learned  to  know,  and  knowing,  to  love  her  —  but  it  was 
then  too  late. 

So  torturing  were  Mrs.  Fortescue's  feelings  when  she  recalled 
the  last  request  of  her  husband,  and  her  cruel  and  haughty 
refusal ;  when  that  which  had  seemed  so  important,  a  juvenile 
ball  —  because  not  to  go  would  disappoint  Edward  —  became 
associated  with  his  fearful  death,  and  sunk  into  worse  than 
nothing  —  she  had  parted  with  him  in  anger,  and  it  proved  for- 
ever ;  —  that  even  as  England  had  become  odious  to  her.  twelve 
years  before,  so  did  India  now  ;  and  she  suddenly  resolved  to 
quit  it,  and  return  to  the  relatives  she  had  neglected  so  long, 
but  toward  whom  she  now  yearned  more  than  ever.  She 
thought  and  believed  such  a  complete  change  would  and  must 
bring  peace.  Alas !  what  change  will  remove  the  torture  of 
remorse ! 

Though  incapable  of  real  love,  from  her  studied  heartless- 
ness,  it  was  impossible  for  her  to  have  lived  twelve  years  with 
one  so  indulgent  and  fond  as  Colonel  Fortescue,  without  real- 
izing some  degree  of  affection,  and  his  unexpected  and  awful 
death  roused  every  previously  dormant  feeling  so  powerfully, 
that  she  was  astonished  at  herself,  and  in  her  misery  believed 
that  the  feeling  had  only  come  to  add  to  her  burden  —  for  what 
was  the  use  of  loving  now  ?  and,  determined  to  rouse  herself, 
she  made  every  preparation  for  immediate  departure  ;  but  she 
was  painfully  arrested.  The  selfish  mother  had  fled  fiom  the 
couch  of  her  suffering  child,  and  now  a  variation  of  the  same 
•complaint  laid  her  on  a  bed  of  pain.  It  was  a  desperate  strug- 


56  HOME   INFLUENCE. 

gle  between  life  and  death ;  but  she  rallied,  and  insisted  on 
tiiking  her  passage  for  England  some  weeks  before  herncedical 
attendant  thought  it  advisable.  The  constant  struggle  between 
the  whisperings  of  good  and  the  dominion  of  evil,  which  her 
qrhole  life  had  been,  had  unconsciously  undermined  a  constitu- 
tion naturally  good ;  and  when  to  this  was  added  a  malignant 
disease,  though  brief  in  itself,  the  seeds  of  a  mortal  complaint 
were  planted,  which,  ere  the  long  voyage  was  concluded,  had 
obtained  fatal  and  irremediable  ascendency,  and  occasioned 
those  sufferings  and  death  which  in  our  first  chapters  we  de- 
scribed. 

To  Edward,  though  the  death  of  his  father  had  caused  him 
much  childish  grief,  still  more  perhaps  from  sympathy  with  the 
deep  suffering  of  his  mother,  than  a  perfect  consciousness  of  his 
own  heavy  loss,  the  manner  in  which  he  died  was  to  him  a 
source  of  actual  pride.  He  had  always  loved  the  histories  of 
heroes,  military  and  naval,  and  gloried  in  the  idea  that  his 
father  had  been  one  of  them,  and  died  as  they  did,  bravely 
fighting  against  superior  numbers,  and  in  the  moment  of  a 
glorious  victory.  He  had  never  seen  death,  and  imagined  not 
all  the  attendant  horrors  of  such  a  one ;  and  how  that  Ellen 
could  never  even  hear  the  word  without  shuddering  he  could 
not  understand,  nor  why  she  should  always  so  painfully  shrink 
from  the  remotest  reference  to  that  night,  which  was  only  asso- 
ciated in  his  mind  with  emotions  of  pleasure.  In  the  tedious 
voyage  of  nearly  six  months  (for  five-and-twenty  years  ago 
the  voyage  from  India  to  England  was  not  what  it  is  now,)  the 
character  of  Edward  shone  forth  in  such  noble  coloring  as 
almost  to  excuse  his  mother's  idolatry,  and  win  for  him  the 
regard  of  passengers  and  crew.  Captain  Cameron  had  im- 
pressed on  his  mind  that  he  now  stood  in  his  father's  place  to 
his  mother  and  sister ;  and  as  the  idea  of  protecting  is  always 
a  strong  incentive  to  manliness  in  a  boy,  however  youthful, 
Edward  well  redeemed  the  charge,  so  devoting  himself  not 
only  to  his  mother,  but  to  Ellen,  that  her  affection  for  him 
redoubled,  as  did  her  mistaken  idea  of  his  vast  superiority. 

His  taste  had  always  pointed  to  the  naval  in  preference  to 
the  military  profession,  and  the  voyage  confirmed  it.  Before 
he  had  been  a  month  on  board  he  had  become  practically  an 
expert  sailor  —  had  learned  all  the  technical  names  of  the 
various  parts  of  a  ship,  and  evinced  the  most  eager  desire  for 
the  acquirement  of  navigation.  Nor  did  he  fail  in  the  true 
Bailor  spirit,  when,  almost  within  sight  of  England,  a  tremendous 
atorm  arosr,  reducing  the  vessel  almost  to  a  wreck,  carrying  hei 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  57 

Air  from  her  destined  moorings,  and  compelling  her,  after  ten 
days'  doubt  whether  or  not  she  would  reach  land  in  safety,  to 
anchor  in  Milford  Haven,  there  to  repair  her  injuries,  ere  she 
could  be  agaiu  seaworthy. 

The  passengers  here  left  her,  and  Mrs.  Fortescue,  whose 
illness  the  terrors  of  the  storm  had  most  alarmingly  increased, 
\vas  conveyed  to  Pembroke  in  an  almost  exhausted  state  ;  but 
once  on  land  she  rallied,  resolved  on  instantly  proceeding  to 
Swansea,  then  cross  to  Devonshire,  and  travel  direct  to  Oak- 
wood,  where  she  had  no  doubt  her  sister  was.  But  her  temper 
was  destined  to  be  tried  still  more.  The  servant  who  had  ac- 
companied her  from  India,  an  Englishwoman,  tired  out  with 
the  fretful  impatience  of  Mrs.  Fortescue  during  the  voyage,  and 
disappointed  that  she  did  not  at  once  proceed  to  London,  de- 
manded her  instant  discharge,  as  she  could  not  stay  any  longer 
from  her  friends.  The  visible  illness  of  her  mistress  might 
have  spared  this  unfeeling  act,  but  Eleanor  had  never  shown 
feeling  or  kindness  to  her  inferiors,  and  therefore,  perhaps,  had 
no  right  to  expect  them.  Her  suppressed  anger  and  annoy- 
ance so  increased  physical  suffering,  that  had  it  not  been  for 
her  children  she  must  have  sunk  at  once ;  but  for  their  sakes 
she  struggled  with  that  deadly  exhaustion,  and  set  off  the  very 
next  morning,  without  any  attendant,  for  Swansea.  They  were 
not  above  thirty  miles  from  this  town  when,  despite  her  every 
effort,  Mrs.  Fortescue  became  too  ill  to  proceed.  There  was 
no  appearance  of  a  town  or  village,  but  the  owners  of  a  half- 
way house,  pitying  the  desolate  condition  of  the  travellers, 
directed  the  postboy  to  the  village  of  Llangwillan  ;  which, 
though  out  of  the  direct  road,  and  four  or  five  miles  distant, 
was  yet  the  nearest  place  of  shelter.  And  never  in  her  whole 
life  had  Mrs.  Fortescue  experienced  such  a  blessed  sensation 
of  physical  relief,  as  when  the  benevolent  exertions  of  Mr.  Myr- 
vin  had  installed  her  in  widow  Morgan's  humble  dwelling,  and 
by  means  of  soothing  medicine  and  deep  repose  in  some  degree 
relieved  the  torture  of  a  burning  brain  and  aching  frame.  Still 
she  hoped  to  rally,  and  obtain  strength  sufficient  to  proceed ; 
and  bitter  was  the  anguish  when  the  hope  was  compelled  to  be 
relinquished.  —  With  all  that  followed,  our  readers  are  already 
acquainted,  and  we  will,  therefore,  at  once  seek  the  acquaint- 
ance of  Mrs.  Hamilton's  own  family,  whose  "  Traits  of  Cha- 
racter" will,  we  hope,  illustrate  other  and  happier  home 
Influences  than  those  of  indiscreet  indulence  and  culable 


PART    II. 
TRAITS    OF    CHARACTER. 


CHAPTER  I. 

YOUTHFUL    COLLOQUY INTRODUCING    CHARACTER 

THE  curtains  were  drawn  close,  the  large  lamp  was  on  the 
table,  and  a  cheerful  fire  blazing  in  the  grate ;  for  though  only 
September,  the  room  was  sufficiently  large,  and  the  evenings 
sufficiently  chill,  for  a  fire  to  add  greatly  to  its  aspect  of  true 
English  comfort.  There  were  many  admirable  pictures  sus- 
pended on  the  walls,  and  well-filled  book-cases,  desks,  and 
maps,  stands  of  beautiful  flowers,  and  some  ingenious  toys,  all 
seeming  to  proclaim  the  apartment  as  the  especial  possession  of 
the  young  party  who  were  this  evening  busily  engaged  at  the 
large  round  table  which  occupied  the  centre  of  the  room. 
They  were  only  four  in  number ;  but  what  with  a  large  desk 
piled  with  books  and  some  most  alarming-sized  dictionaries, 
which  occupied  the  elder  of  the  two  lads,  the  embroidery  frame 
of  the  elder  girl,  the  dissected  map  before  her  sister,  and  two 
or  three  books  scattered  round  the  younger  boy,  the  table 
seemed  so  well  filled  that  Miss  Harcourt  had  quietly  ensconced 
herself  in  her  own  private  little  corner,  sufficiently  near  to  take 
an  interest,  and  sometimes  join  in  the  conversation  of  her  youth- 
ful charge ;  but  so  apart  as  to  be  no  restraint  upon  them,  and  to 
enable  her  to  pursue  her  own  occupations  of  either  reading, 
writing,  or  working  uninterruptedly.  Could  poor  Mrs.  Fortes- 
cue  have  glanced  on  the  happy  group,  she  certainly  raight  have 
told  her  sister,  with  some  show  of  justice,  that  there  was  such 
an  equal  distribution  of  interesting  and  animated  expression 
(which  is  the  great  beauty  of  youth,)  that  she  could  not  have 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  5'J 

Known  thi  trial  of  having  such  a  heavy,  dull,  unhappy  child  as 
Ellen.  Mrs.  Hamilton,  indeed,  we  rather  think,  would  not  have 
considered  such  a  trial,  except  as  it  proved  ill-health  and  physi- 
cal pain  in  the  little  sufferer ;  and,  perhaps  her  increased  care 
and  tenderness  (for  such  with  her  would  have  been  the  conse- 
quence of  the  same  cause  which  had  created  her  sister'a  neglect) 
might  have  removed  both  the  depression  of  constant  but  im- 
palpable illness,  and  the  expression  of  heaviness  and  gloom. 
Certain  it  is,  that  her  own  Herbert  had,  with  regard  to  delicate 
health,  given  her  more  real  and  constant  anxiety  than  Eleanor 
had  ever  allowed  herself  to  experience  with  Ellen ;  but  there 
was  nothing  in  the  boy's  peculiarly  interesting  countenance  to 
denote  the  physical  suffering  he  very  often  endured.  Care  and 
love  had  so  surrounded  his  path  with  blessings,  that  he  was 
often  heard  to  declare,  that  he  never  even  wished  to  be  as 
strong  as  his  brother,  or  to  share  his  active  pleasures,  he  had  so 
many  others  equally  delightful.  Whether  it  was  his  physical 
temperament,  inducing  a  habitude  of  reflection  and  studious 
thought  much  beyond  his  years,  or  whether  the  unusually  gifted 
mind  worked  on  the  frame,  or  the  one  combined  to  form  the 
other,  it  would  be  as  impossible  to  decide  with  regard  to  him 
as  with  hundreds  of  others  like  him ;  but  he  certainly  seemed, 
not  only  to  his  parents,  but  to  their  whole  household,  and  to 
every  one  who  casually  associated  with  him,  to  have  more  in 
him  of  heaven  than  earth ;  as  if  indeed  he  were  only  lent,  not 
given.  And  often  and  often  his  mother's  heart  ached  with 
its  very  intensity  of  love,  causing  the  unspoken  dread  —  how 
might  she  hope  to  retain  one  so  faultless,  and  yet  so  full  of  every 
human  sympathy  and  love  !  The  delicate  complexion,  beauti- 
ful color  of  his  cheeks  and  lips,  and  large  soft,  very  dark  blue 
eye,  with  its  long  black  lash,  high,  arched  brow,  shaded  by 
glossy  chestnut  hair,  were  all  so  lit  up  with  the  rays  of  mind, 
that  though  his  face  returned  again  and  again  to  the  fancy  of 
those  who  had  only  once  beheld  it,  they  could  scarcely  have  re- 
called a  single  feature,  feeling  only  the  almost  angelic  expres- 
sion of  the  whole. 

His  brother,  as  full  of  mirth  and  mischief,  and  as  noisy  and 
laughter-loving  as  Herbert  was  quiet  and  thoughtful,  made  his 
way  at  once,  winning  regard  by  storm,  and  retaining  it  by  his 
frank  and  generous  qualities,  which  made  him  a  favorite  with 
young  and  old.  Even  in  his  hours  of  study,  there  was  not  the 
least  evidence  of  reflection  or  soberness.  As  a  child  he  had 
had  much  to  contend  with,  in  the  way  of  passion,  pr'de,  and 
self-will;  but  his  home  influence  had  befn  such  a  judicious 


W  HOME    INFLUENCE. 

blending  of  indulgence  and  firmness  on  the  part  of  both  his 
parents,  such  a  persevering  inculcation  of  a  strong  sense  of 
duty,  religious  and  moral,  that  at  fifteen  his  difficulties  had 
been  all  nearly  overcome;  and,  except  when  occasional  acts  of 
thoughtlessness  and  hasty  impulse  lured  him  into  error  and  its 
painful  consequences,  he  was  as  happy  and  as  good  a  lad  as 
even  his  anxious  mother  could  desire. 

The  elder  of  his  two  sisters  resembled  him  in  the  bright,  dark, 
flashing  eye,  the  straight  intellectual  brow,  the  rich  dark  brown 
hair  and  well-formed  mouth ;  but  the  expression  was  so  differ- 
ent at  present,  that  it  was  often  difficult  to  trace  the  likeness 
that  actually  existed.  Haughtiness,  and  but  too  often  ill-tem- 
per, threw  a  shade  over  a  countenance,  which  when  happy  and 
animated  was  not  only  attractive  then,  but  gave  a  fair  promise 
of  great  beauty  in  after  years.  The  disposition  of  Caroline 
Hamilton  was  in  fact  naturally  so  similar  to  that  of  her  aunt, 
Mrs.  Fortescue,  that  Mrs.  Hamilton's  task  with  her  was  not 
only  more  difficult  and  painful  in  the  pi'esent  than  with  any  of 
the  others,  but  her  dread  of  the  future  at  times  so  overpower- 
ing, that  it  required  all  her  husband's  influence  to  calm  her,  by 
returning  trust  in  Him,  who  had  promised  to  answer  all  who 
called  upon  Him,  and  would  bless  that  mother's  toils  which  were 
based  on,  and  looked  up  alone,  to  His  influence  on  her  child, 
and  guidance  for  herself. 

The  blue-eyed,  fair-haired,  graceful,  little  Emmeline,  not 
only  the  youngest  of  the  family,  but  from  her  slight  figure,  deli- 
cate, small  features,  and  childish  manner,  appearing  even  much 
younger  than  she  was,  was  indeed  a  source  of  joy  and  love  to 
all,  seeming  as  if  sorrow,  except  for  others,  could  not  approach 
her.  She  had  indeed  much  that  required  a  carefully  guiding 
hand,  in  a  yielding  weakness  of  disposition,  indolent  habit  in 
learning,  an  unrestrained  fancy,  and  its  general  accompaniment, 
over-sensitiveness  of  feeling,  but  so  easily  guided  by  affection, 
and  with  a  disposition  so  sweet  and  gentle,  that  a  word  from 
her  mother  was  always  enough.  Mrs.  Hamilton  had  little  fears 
for  her,  except,  indeed,  as  for  the  vast  capability  of  individual 
suffering  which  such  a  disposition  engendered,  in  those  trials 
vhich  it  was  scarcely  possible  she  might  hope  to  pass  through 
L.e  without.  There  was  only  one  safeguard,  one  unfailing  com- 
fort, for  a  character  like  hers,  and  that  was  a  deep  ever-present 
jcnse  of  religion,  which  untiringly,  and  yet  more  by  example 
than  by  precept,  her  parents  endeavored  to  instil.  Greatly, 
Indeed,  would  both  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hamilton  have  be  m  astonish* 
o  1,  Inul  they  been  told  that  the  little  girl,  Ellen  Foitesouo,  wh«' 


HOME    INFLUENCE.  61 

to  boy.h  was  such  an  enigma,  and  who  was  seemingly  in  all 
things  so  utterly  unlike  their  Emmeline,  was  in  natural  disposi- 
tion exactly  the  same ;  and  that  the  vast  difference  in  present 
and  future  character  simply  arose  from  the  fact,  that  the  early 
influences  of  the  one  were  sorrow  and  neglect,  and  of  the  other, 
happiness  and  love. 

"I  wonder  whether  mamma  and  papa  will  really  come  homi; 
to-night ; "  observed  Caroline,  after  several  minutes  of  unbroken 
silence,  all  seemingly  so  engrossed  in  their  own  occupations  as 
to  have  no  inclination  to  speak.  "And  if  they  do,  I  wish  we 
could  know  the  exact  time,  I  do  so  hate  expecting  and  being 
disappointed." 

"Then  neither  wonder  nor  expect,  my  sage  sister,"  replied 
Percy,  without,  however,  raising  his  head  or  interrupting  his 
writing ;  "  and  I  will  give  you  two  capital  reasons  for  my  ad- 
vice. Firstly,  wonder  is  the  offspring  of  ignorance,  and  has  two 
opposite  effects  on  my  sex  and  on  yours.  With  us  it  is  closely 
connected  with  philosophy,  for  we  are  told  in  'wonder  all  phi- 
losophy begins,  in  wonder  it  ends,  and  adoration  fills  up  the 
inter  space ; "  but  with  you,  poor  weak  creatures,  the  only  effect 
it  produces  is  increased  curiosity,  of  which  you  have  naturally  a 
more  than  adequate  supply.  Secondly,  if  you  begin  to  wonder 
and  except,  and  speculate  as  to  the  ayes  and  noes  of  a  contin- 
gency to-night,  you  will  not  cease  talking  till  mamma  really 
does  appear ;  and  then  good-by  to  my  theme,  for  to  write 
while  your  tongue  is  running,  is  impossible.  So  pray,  take  my 
advice,  on  consideration  that  you  have  had  as  good  a  sermon 
from  me  as  my  reverend  brother  Herbert  can  ever  hope  to 
give." 

"I  do  not  think  mamma  and  papa  will  be  quite  satisfied  if 
he  do  not  give  us  a  much  better  one,  even  the  very  first  time 
he  attempts  it ; "  rejoined  Emmeline,  with  a  very  arch  look  at 
her  brother. 

"  What,  you  against  me,  Miss  Emmy !  and  beginning  to  talk 
too.  You  forget  what  an  important  personage  I  am,  during 
papa's  absence  especially ;  and  that  as  such,  I  am  not  to  be  in- 
sulted with  impunity.  So  here  goes  —  as  a  fresh  exercise  for 
your  patience!"  And  he  mingled  all  the  fixed  and  unfixed 
parts  of  her  map  in  most  bewildering  confusion,  regardless  of 
her  laughing  entreaty  to  let  them  alone. 

"You  have  tried  a  very  bad  way  to  keep  me  quiet,  Percy," 
continued  Caroline;  "you  must  either  explain  why  wonder 
may  not  equally  have  the  srjne  good  effect  on  us  as  on  you,  jr 
vetract  your  words  entirely.  You  know  you  would  not  have 


bSJ  HOME    INFLUENCE. 

expressed  such  a  contemptuous  opinion,  if  mamma  had  been 
present." 

"  My  mother  is  such  a  very  superior  person,  that  when  she 
is  present  her  superiority  extends  over  her  whole  sex,  Caro- 
line ;  even  you  are  safe,  because,  as  her  child,  it  is  to  be  ho}.ed 
that  one  of  these  days  you  may  be  something  like  her ;  exactly, 
I  do  not  expect  —  two  such  women  as  my  mother  can  not 
exist." 

u  As  if  your  opinion  were  of  such  importance,  Percy,"  re- 
plied Caroline  haughtily  ;  "  it  really  is  very  little  consequence 
to  me  whether  you  think  me  like  mamma  or  not." 

"  It  is  to  me,  though,"  rejoined  Emmeline,  earnestly ;  "  I 
would  rather  be  like  mamma  than  like  anybody  else,  and  I 
should  like  Percy  to  think  I  was,  because  then  he  would  love 
me  still  more." 

"  Bravo,  my  little  Em ;  spoken  almost  as  well  as  I  could 
myself;  and,  as  a  reward,  as  soon  as  this  most  annoying  piece 
of  erudition  is  accomplished,  I  will  help  you  with  your  map. 
Why,  you  silly  little  thing,  you  have  put  Kamschatka  as  the 
terra  firma  of  South  America ;  no  doubt  that  ice  and  snow 
would  be  very  welcome  there,  but  how  the  Americans  would 
stare  to  see  the  fur-clad  Kamschatkans  such  near  neighbors. 
That's  it,  go  on,  puzzle  away  till  I  can  help  you.  And  you 
Miss  Caroline,  retain  your  contempt  of  my  opinion,  and  may 
you  never  repent  it." 

"  I  thought  you  told  me  not  to  talk,  Percy,"  replied  his  sis- 
ter ;  "  and  I  should  like  to  know  who  is  talking  the  most,  you 
or  I  ?  You  will  not  finish  what  you  are  doing  before  the  bell 
rings  for  prayers,  if  you  go  on  in  this  way." 

"  That  proves  how  little  you  know  the  extent  of  my  powers. 
I  have  only  to  make  a  clean  copy  of  these  learned  reflections. 
Why,  in  the  name  of  all  the  gods,  were  there  such  provokingly 
clever  people  as  Seneca,  Cicero,  Pliny,  and  a  host  of  others ! 
or,  if  they  must  be  wise,  why  did  they  not  burn  all  the  written 
wisdom,  instead  of  leaving  it  as  a  means  of  torture  in  the  hands 
of  learned  pedagogues,  yclept  schoolmasters,  and  as  a  curse  on 
those  poor  unfortunates  whose  noddles  are  not  wise  enough  to 
contain  it." 

"  I  should  be  very  sorry  if  all  the  ancient  authors  were  thus 
annihilated,"  observed  Herbert,  looking  up  from  his  book  with 
a  bright  smile.  "  I  should  lose  a  great  deal  of  enjoyment  even 
now,  and  still  more  by-and-by,  when  I  know  more." 

"  Ay,  but  my  dear  fellow,  your  head  is  not  quiu  so  like  a 
r>ieve  as  mine.  Yours  receives,  contains,  digests,  and  sends 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  63 

forth  the  matter  improved  by  your  own  ideas  ;  but  as  for  mine, 
the  matter  undoubtedly  enters,  but  runs  out  again,  and  only 
leaves  behind  that  which  is  too  large  and  gross  to  pass  through. 
No,  no,  Bertie,  your  head  and  mine  are  not  related  even  in  the 
twentieth  degree  of  consanguinity,  however  nearly  connected 
their  masters  may  be.  Hush !  not  a  word  ;  I  have  only  one 
line  more ;  what  a  wise  man  that  was  to  be  sure,  who  said, 
*  Otiosum  esse  quam  nihil  agere '  —  better  to  be  idle  than  doing 
nothing.  Don't  shake  your  head  and  laugh,  Emmy.  Vak.  ' 
never  did  I  say  good-by  so  willingly.  Hurrah !  mamma  and 
papa  may  come  home  when  they  like  now.  Cast  your  eye 
over  it  Herbert ;  just  tell  me  if  it  looks  correct,  and  then  vale 
books  —  vale  pens  —  vale  desk  for  to-night !  "  He  placed  his 
writing  on  his  brother's  open  book,  threw  his  dictionary  and 
grammar  high  in  air,  and  dexterously  caught  them  as  they  fell, 
piled  up  his  books,  closed  his  desk,  and  then,  with  a  comical 
sigh  of  relief,  flung  himself  full  length  on  a  sofa. 

"  Now  that  you  have  finished  your  task,  Percy,  perhaps  you 
will  have  the  kindness  to  inform  us  why  at  this  time  of  the 
evening  you  have  been  writing  Latin  ?  "  inquired  Caroline. 

"  And  open  my  wound  afresh  !  However,  it  is  quite  right 
that  Miss  Harcourt  should  know  that,  if  I  am  ill  from  over- 
Btudy  to-morrow,  it  is  her  doing." 

"  Mine  !  "  answered  Miss  Harcourt,  laughing ;  "  pray  ex- 
plain yourself,  young  man,  for  I  am  so  perfectly  innocent  as 
not  even  to  understand  you." 

"  Did  you  not  this  morning  give  me  a  message  to  Lady 
Helen  Grahame  ?  " 

"  I  did  ;  you  passed  her  house  on  your  way  to  Mr.  How- 
ard's." 

"  "Well,  then,  if  you  had  not  given  me  the  message,  much  as 
I  felt  disinclined  to  pore  over  musty  books  and  foolscap  paper, 
from  the  extreme  loveliness  of  the  morning,  I  should  have  nerv- 
ed myself  to  go  straight  on  to  the  Rectory.  Lady  Helen  was 
not  visible,  so  I  tarried,  believing  your  message  of  vital  import- 
ance, and  Annie  came  to  me  —  by-the-by,  what  a  little  woman 
lhat  child  is  ;  Emmeline,  you  are  a  baby  to  her.  I  wonder  she 
condescends  to  associate  with  you." 

"  I  do  not  think  she  is  at  all  fond  of  me  —  Caroline  is  her 
friend,"  replied  Emmeline  ;  "  but  what  can  Annie  have  to  do 
with  your  Latin  ?  " 

"A  great  deal  —  for  she  talked  and  we  walked,  and  time 
walked  too,  and  by  the  ';ime  I  had  seen  Lady  Helen,  it  was 
two  hours  later  than  I  ought  to  have  been  with  Mr.  Howard. 


51  HOME   INFLUENCE. 

On  I  went,  feeling  not  particularly  comfortable ;  but  though  it 
is  clear  logic  that  if  Miss  Harcourt  had  not  sent  me  to  Lady 
Helen's  I  should  not  have  been  led  into  temptation ;  I  wag 
magnanimous  enough  not  to  mention  her,  but  to  lay  the  whole 
blame  of  my  non-appearance,  on  my  own  disinclination  for  any 
study  but  that  of  nature.  Mr.  Howard  looked  grave  and  sor- 
rowful —  I  wish  to  heaven  he  was  more  like  any  other  school- 
master ;  that  look  and  tone  of  his  are  worse  than  any  rod !  — 
and  to  redeem  my  lost  time  in  the  morning,  I  was  desired  to 
tt-rite  a  Latin  theme  on  a  letter  of  Pliny's  this  evening.  And 
now  that  I  have  satisfied  all  your  inquiries,  please  satisfy  mine. 
Is  there  any  chance  of  mamma's  coming  home  to-night  ?  " 

"  Every  probability,"  replied  Miss  Harcourt.  "  It  only 
depends  on  your  cousin,  who  is  so  very  delicate,  that  if  she 
were  too  fatigued,  Mr.  Hamilton  would  remain  at  Exeter 
to-night,  and  proceed  here  early  to-morrow." 

"  Well,  my  little  cousin,  though  I  have  not  the  pleasure  of 
knowing  you,  I  hope  you  will  be  so  kind  as  to  let  mamma  com« 
on  to-night,  for  we  have  been  too  long  without  her,  and  I  long 
to  resign  to  papa  his  robes  of  office,  for  they  sit  mightily  like 
borrowed  plumes  upon  me.  Mamma  writes  of  Ellen  and 
Edwai-d  —  I  wonder  what  they  are  like  !  Come,  Tiny,  paint 
them  for  me  —  your  fertile  fancy  generally  fills  up  the  shadow 
of  a  name." 

"  I  cannot,  Percy,  for  I  am  afraid  my  pictures  would  not  be 
agreeable." 

"  Not  agreeable  !  "  repeated  Percy  and  Miss  Harcourt  to 
gether.  "  Why  not  ?  " 

Emmeline  hesitated,  then  answered  ingenuously,  "We  are 
so  very,  very  happy  together,  that  I  do  not  feel  quite  sure  that 
I  am  glad  my  cousins  are  going  to  live  with  us." 

"  What !  are  you  afraid  I  shall  love  Ellen  more  than  you, 
Emmy  ?  "  exclaimed  her  brother,  starting  up  and  sitting  on  her 
chair ;  "  do  not  be  alarmed,  Tiny ;  no  cousin  shall  take  your 
place." 

"  Indeed  I  am  not  afraid  of  that,  Percy,  dear,"  she  replied, 
looking  so  fondly  in  his  face,  that  he  gave  her  a  hearty  kiss. 
'*!  cannot  tell  why  I  should  feel  half  sorry  that  they  are 
?oming,  but  I  am  quite  sure  I  will  do  all  I  can  to  make  them 
happy." 

"  You  could  not  do  otherwise  if  you  were  to  try,  Tiny. 
Come,  Caroline,  what  say  you  ?  We  have  all  been  thinking 
about  them,  so  we  may  as  well  give  each  other  the  benefit  of 
i.ur  thoughts." 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  66 

fa  Suppose  I  do  not  feel  inclined  to  do  so  ?  " 

"  Why  we  must  all  believe  you  are  ashamed  of  them,"  re- 
plied Percy,  quickly,  "  and  if  you  are,  I  know  who  has  made 
y  ou  so.  1  would  lay  any  wager,  the  Avhole  time  you  have  been 
with  Lady  Helen  Grahame,  since  mamma  has  been  away,  she 
has  been  talking  of  nothing  else  —  look,  look,  she  is  blushing  — 
I  am  right." 

"And  if  she  did,"  replied  Caroline,  very  much  provoked, 
"  she  said  nothing  that  I  am  ashamed  of  repeating.  She  knew 
my  aunt  before  she  went  to  India,  and  I  am  sure  if  her  children 
are  like  her,  they  will  be  no  agreeable  additions  to  our  family." 

"  Bravo,  Caroline  !  you  really  are  an  apt  pupil ;  Lady  Helen's 
words  and  manner  completely  !  but  you  may  have  one  comfort ; 
children  are  not  always  like  their  parents,  and  if  they  are  as 
unlike  Lady  Helen's  description  of  my  poor  aunt  (which  by 
the  way  she  had  no  right  to  give,  nor  you  to  listen  to)  as  you 
are  at  this  moment  unlike  mamma,  we  shall  get  on  capitally, 
and  need  have  no  fears  about  them." 

"  Percy  you  are  intolerably  disagreeable  !  " 

"  Because  I  speak  the  sad,  sober  truth  ?  Caroline,  do  pray, 
get  rid  of  that  dawning  ill  temper,  before  mamma  comes  ;  it 
will  not  be  a  pleasant  welcome  home." 

"  I  am  not  ill-tempered,  Percy :  I  suppose  I  may  have  my 
own  opinion  of  Ellen  and  Edward,  as  well  as  all  of  you,"  re- 
plied his  sister  angrily. 

"  But  do  not  let  it  be  an  unkind  one,  without  knowing  them, 
dear  Caroline,"  observed  Herbert  gently ;  "  it  is  so  very  diffi- 
cult to  get  rid  of  a  prejudice  when  once  it  has  entered  our 
minds,  even  when  we  know  and  feel  that  it  is  a  wrong  one.  I 
am  sure  if  we  only  thought  how  sad  it  is  that  they  have  neither 
father  nor  mother  to  love  them,  and  are  coming  all  among 
strangers  —  born  in  a  strange  land  too  —  we  should  find  quite 
enough  to  think  kindly  about,  and  leave  all  wonder  as  to  what 
they  will  be  like,  till  we  know  them.  I  dare  say  we  shall  often 
have  to  bear  and  forbear,  but  that  we  have  to  do  with  each 
other,  and  it  will  only  be  one  brother  and  sister  more." 

"  Brother  and  sister !  I  am  sure  I  shall  not  think  of  them  so, 
Herbert,  however  you  may.  My  father  might  have  been  a 
nobleman,  and  who  knows  any  thing  of  theirs  ?  " 

"  Caroline,  how  can  you  be  so  ridiculous  !  "  exclaimed  Percy, 
with  a  most  provoking  fit  of  laughter.  "  Their  father  served 
and  died  for  his  king  —  as  our  grandfather  did ;  and  had  he 
lived  might  have  been  offered  a  title  too  —  and  their  mother  — 
really  I  think  you  are  very  insulting  to  mamria .  her  sister's 


60  HOME    INFLUENCE. 

children    1    ihould   imagine   quite   as   high   in   rank    as  our- 
selves ! " 

"And  even  if  they  were  not  —  what  would  it  sign:  fy  ?  "  re- 
joined Herbert.  "  Dear  Caroline,  pray  do  not  talk  or  think  so  ; 
it  makes  me  feel  so  sorry,  for  I  know  how  wrong  it  is  —  we 
might  have  been  in  their  place." 

"  I  really  cannot  fancy  any  thing  so  utterly  impossible," 
interrupted  Caroline,  "  so  you  may  spare  the  supposition,  Her- 
bert." 

"  It  is  no  use,  Bertie  ;  you  must  bring  the  antipodes  together, 
before  you  and  Caroline  will  think  alike,"  interposed  Percy, 
perceiving  with  regret  the  expression  of  pain  on  his  brother's 
face,  and  always  ready  to  guard  him  either  from  physical  or 
mental  suffering,  feeling  instinctively  that,  from  his  extraordi- 
nary mind  and  vivid  sense  of  duty,  he  was  liable  to  the  latter, 
from  many  causes  which  other  natures  would  pass  unnoticed. 

Miss  Harcourt  did  not  join  the  conversation.  It  had  always 
been  Mrs.  Hamilton's  wish  that  in  their  intercourse  with  each 
other,  her  children  should  be  as  unrestrained  as  if  they  had 
been  alone.  Had  Caroline's  sentiments  received  encourage- 
ment, she  would  have  interfered ;  but  the  raillery  of  Percy  and 
the  earnestness  of  Herbert  she  knew  were  more  likely  to  pro- 
duce an  effect  than  any  thing  like  a  rebuke  from  herself,  which 
would  only  have  caused  restraint  before  her  in  future.  It  was 
tlirough  this  perfect  unrestraint  that  Mrs.  Hamilton  had  become 
so  thoroughly  acquainted  with  the  several  characters  of  her 
children.  That  Caroline's  sentiments  caused  her  often  real 
pain  was  true,  but  it  was  far  better  to  know  them,  and  endeavor 
to  correct  and  remove  them,  by  causing  education  to  bear  upon 
the  faults  they  revealed,  than  to  find  them  concealed  from  her 
by  the  constant  fear  of  words  of  reproof. 

To  remove  Herbert's  unusual  seriousness,  Percy  continued, 
laughingly  — 

"  Miss  Harcourt,  what  are  your  thoughts  on  this  momentous 
subject?  It  is  no  use  asking  Herbert's,  we  all  know  them 
without  his  telling  us  ;  but  you  are  almost  the  principally  con- 
cerned of  the  present  party,  for  Ellen  will  bring  you  the  trouble 
cf  another  pupil." 

"  I  shall  not  regi  wt  it,  Percy ;  but  only  shall  rejoice  if  I  can 
In  any  way  lessen  your  mother's  increased  charge.  As  for 
what  your  cousins  will  be  like,  I  candidly  tell  you  I  have 
scarcely  thought  about  it.  I  have  no  doubt  we  shall  find  them 
strange  and  shy  at  first;  but  we  must  do  all  we  can  to  mako 
theii  feil  they  are  no  strangers.' 


HOME    INFLUENCE.  t>7 

"And  now,  then,  it  only  remains  for  the  right  honorable  me 
to  speak ;  and  really  Emmy  and  Herbert  and  you  have  told 
ray  story,  and  left  me  nothing.  I  do  not  know  whether  I  am 
pleased  or  not,  but  I  am  very  sorry  for  them ;  and  it  will  be 
capital  if  this  Master  Edward  turns  out  a  lad  of  spirit  and 
mischief,  and  not  over-learned  or  too  fond  of  study  —  one,  in 
fact,  that  I  can  associate  with,  without  feeling  such  a  painful 
sensation  of  inferiority  as  I  do  when  in  company  with  *ny  right 
reverend  brother." 

"  Dear  Percy,  do  not  call  me  reverend,"  said  Herbert,  ap- 
pealingly :  "  I  feel  it  almost  a  mockery  now,  when  I  am  so 
very  far  from  being  worthy  to  become  a  clergyman." 

"  You  are  a  good  fellow,  Bertie ;  and  I  will  not  tease  you,  if 
I  can  help  it  —  but  really  I  do  not  mean  it  for  mockery ;  you 
know,  or  ought  to  know,  that  you  are  better  now  than  half  the 
clergymen  who  have  taken  orders,  and  as  much  superior  to  me 
in  goodness  as  in  talent." 

"  Indeed  I  know  no  such  thing,  Percy ;  I  am  not  nearly  so 
strong  in  health  as  you  are,  and  am  therefore  naturally  more 
fond  of  quiet  pleasures :  and  as  for  talent,  if  you  were  as  fond 
of  application  as  of  frolic,  you  would  leave  me  far  behind." 

"  Wrong,  Bertie,  quite  wrong !  but  think  of  yourself  as  you 
please,  I  know  what  everybody  thinks  of  you.  Hush!  is  that 
the  sound  of  a  carriage,  or  only  the  wind  making  love  to  the 
old  oaks  ?  " 

"  The  wind  making  love,  Percy !  "  repeated  Emmeline,  laugh- 
ing ;  "  I  neither  hear  that,  nor  the  carriage  wheels  kissing  the 
ground." 

"  Well  done,  Tiny  !  my  poetry  is  beaten  hollow  ;  but  there  — 
there  —  I  am  sure  it  is  a  carriage  !  "  and  Percy  bounded  from 
the  table  so  impetuously  as  nearly  to  upset  it,  flung  back  the 
curtain,  and  looked  eagerly  from  the  window. 

Herbert  closed  his  book  to  listen;  Emmeline  left  her  nearly- 
completed  map,  and  joined  Percy;  Caroline  evidently  tried  to 
resume  serenity,  but,  too  proud  to  evince  it,  industriously  pur- 
sued her  work,  breaking  the  thread  almost  every  time  that  she 
draw  out  the  needle. 

u  It  is  nothing,  Percy ;  how  could  you  disappoint  us  so  ?  "  said 
Herbert,  in  a  tone  of  regret. 

';  My  good  fellow,  you  must  be  deaf —  listen !  nearer  and 
louder  —  and,  look  there,  Emmeline,  through  those  trees,  don't 
you  see  something  glimmering?  that  must  be  the  lamp  of  the 
carriage." 

"Nonsense,  Percy,  it  is  a  glowworm." 


08  HOME   INFLUENCE. 

"A  glowworm !  why,  Ernmeline,  the  thought  of  seeir  g  m.urnna 
h:is  blinded  you.  What  glowworm  ever  came  so  sleadL  y  for- 
ward? No?  there  is  no  mistake  now.  Hurrah,  it  is  tl.3  car- 
riage :  here  Robert,  Morr 5s,  Elias,  all  of  you,  to  the  hall !  to  the 
hall!  The  carriage  is  coming  down  the  avenue."  And  with 
noisy  impatience,  the  young  gentleman  ran  into  the  hall,  assem- 
bled all  the  servants  he  had  named,  and  others  too,  all  eager  to 
welcome  the  travellers ;  flung  wide  back  the  massive  door,  and 
he  and  Herbert  both  were  on  the  steps  several  minutes  before 
the  carriage  came  in  sight. 


CHAPTER  II. 

THREE    ENGLISH    HOMES,    AND    THEIIt    INMATES. 

IF  more  than  the  preceding  conversation  were  needed  to  re- 
veal the  confidence  and  love  with  which  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hamilton 
were  regarded  by  their  children,  the  delight,  the  unrestrained 
expressions  of  affection,  with  which  by  every  one  of  the  young 
party  they  were  received,  would  have  evinced  it  still  more 
clearly.  Herbert  was  very  speedily  on  his  favorite  seat,  a  low 
stool  at  his  mother's  feet.  Emmeline,  for  that  one  half  hour  at 
least,  assumed  her  still  unresigned  privilege,  as  the  youngest 
and  tiniest,  to  quietly  slip  in  her  lap ;  Percy  was  talking  to  his 
father,  making  Edward  perfectly  at  home,  saying  many  kind 
words  to  Ellen,  and  caressing  his  mother,  all  almost  at  the  same 
moment.  Caroline  was  close  to  her  father,  with  her  arm  round 
his  neck ;  and  Miss  Harcourt  was  kfndly  disrobing  Ellen  from 
her  many  wraps,  and  making  her  lie  quietly  on  a  sofa  near  her 
aunt ;  who,  even  in  that  moment  of  delightful  reunion  with  her 
own,  had  yet  time  and  thought,  by  a  few  judicious  words,  to 
remove  the  undefinable,  but  painful  sensation  of  loneliness, 
which  was  creeping  over  the  poor  child  as  she  gazed  on  her 
bright,  happy-looking  cousins;  and  thought  if  to  her  ov.n  mo- 
ther Edward's  beauty  and  happiness  had  made  him  s(  much 
more  beloved  than  herself,  what  claim  could  she  have  >n  her 
aunt?  Ellen  <ould  not  have  said  that  such  were  the  thoughts 
that  fl.led  her  eyes  with  tears,  and  made  her  heart  so  heavy; 
Hm>  on.v  knev,  that  much  as  she  had  loved  her  aunt  durincr  Ihc 


HOME    INFLUENCE.  69 

journey,  her  kiss  and  kind  words  at  that  moment  made  her  love 
lier  more  than  ever. 

Never  had  there  been  a  happier  meal  at  Oakwood  than  the 
substantial  tea  which  was  speedily  ready  for  the  travellers.  So« 
much  was  there  to  hear  and  tell :  Percy's  wild  sallies ;  Caro- 
line's animated  replies  (she  had  now  quite  recovered  her  tem- 
per) ;  Herbert's  gentle  care  of  Ellen,  by  whom  he  had  stationed 
himself  (even  giving  up  to  her  his  usual  seat  by  his  mother)  ; 
Kmmeline's  half  shy,  half  eager,  efforts  to  talk  to  her  cousins ; 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hamilton's  earnest  interest,  all  combined,  long 
before  the  meal  was  concluded,  to  make  Edward  feel  perfectly 
at  his  ease,  and  very  happy,  and  greatly  to  remove  Ellen's  un- 
acknowledged dread.  The  time  passed  so  quickly,  that  there 
was  a  general  start  when  the  prayer  bell  sounded,  though  it 
was  nearly  two  hours  after  the  usual  time. 

"Are  you  prepared  for  to-night,  my  boy?"  Mr.  Hamilton 
asked  of  Herbert,  as  they  rose  to  adjourn  to  the  library,  where, 
morning  and  evening,  it  had  been  the  custom  of  the  Hantjlton 
family  for  many  generations,  to  assemble  their  whole  household 
for  family  devotion. 

"Yes,  papa;  I  was  not  quite  sure  whether  you  would  arrive 
to-night," 

"Then  I  will  not  resume  my  office  till  to-morrow,  Herbert, 
that  I  may  have  the  gratification  of  hearing  you  officiate,"  replied 
his  father,  linking  his  son's  arm  in  his,  and  affectionately  glanc- 
ing on  the  bright  blush  that  rose  to  the  boy's  cheek. 

There  was  a  peculiar  sweetness  in  Herbert  Hamilton's  voice, 
even  in  speaking ;  and  as  he  read  the  service  of  the  lessons  for 
the  evening,  adding  one  or  two  brief  explanations  when  neces- 
sary, and  more  especially  when  reading,  or  rather  praying,  the 
beautiful  petitions  appropriated  to  family  worship,  there  was  an 
earnest  solemnity  of  tone  and  manner,  presenting  a  strange 
contrast,  yet  beautiful,  combining  with  the  boyish  form  and 
youthful  face,  on  which  the  lamp,  suspended  over  the  reading- 
desk,  shed  such  a  soft  and  holy  light.  The  occasional  prayer 
which  was  added  to  the  usual  evening  service,  was  always  cho- 
sen by  the  reader;  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hamilton  were  surprised 
and  affected  at  the  earnestness  with  which  their  almost  angel 
boy  selected  and  read  over  one  peculiarly  bearing  on  the  events 
of  that  evening ;  the  introduction  of  their  orphan  relatives,  for 
compassion  and  blessing  on  them,  and  grace  for  increased  kind- 
ness and  forbearance  in  their  intercourse  with  one  another  — • 
Miss  Harcourt,  his  brother  and  sisters,  knew  well  to  what  he 
alluded,  and  all  but  one  responded  with  earnestness  and  truth 


70  HOME   INFLUENCE. 

Caroline  could  not  enter  into  Herbert's  feelings  even  at  that 
moment:  it  was  a  great  effort  even  to  prevent  a  feeling  of  irri- 
tation, believing  that  he  directly  pointed  at  her,  and  determin- 
jng  that  as  neither  he  nor  any  one  else  had  any  right  to  inter- 
fere with  her  private  thoughts,  and  that  they  could  do  harm 
to  none  while  confined  to  her  own  breast,  she  resolved  not  to 
overcome  them,  and  so  could  not  join  with  any  fervor  in  the 
prayer. 

To  Edward  all  was  strange.  While  the  graces  of  his  body 
and  mind  had  been  most  sedulously  cultivated,  he  had  never 
been  taught  even  the  public  ordinances  of  religion,  much  less 
its  inward  spirit.  His  mother  had  often  and  often  felt  a  pang 
of  reproach,  at  thus  neglecting  that  which  an  inward  voice 
would  whisper  was  most  essential ;  but  she  was  wont  to  silence 
the  pang  by  the  determined  idea,  that  she  was  neither  worth} 
nor  able  to  give  him  such  solemn  lessons,  and  that  it  would 
come  by  instinct  to  him  in  after  years.  There  was  time  enough 
for  him  to  think  of  such  things.  Pie  had  been  now  and  then  to 
church,  but  it  was  a  mere  form,  regarded  as  a  weary  duty,  from 
which  he  escaped  whenever  he  could.  The  present  scene,  then, 
completely  bewildered  him.  He  had  always  fancied  himself 
superior  to  any  of  the  boys  he  had  associated  with ;  but  as  he 
looked  at  and  listened  to  Herbert,  who  seemed  at  most  only  two 
years  older  than  himself,  he  became  sensible  of  a  very  strange 
and  disagreeable,  but  a  very  decided  feeling  of  inferiority ;  and 
then,  too,  it  was  so  incomprehensible,  the  servants  all  joining 
them,  a  class  of  people  whom  in  India  he  had  been  taught  so  to 
consider  his  inferiors,  that  even  to  speak  with  them  was  a  spe- 
cies of  degradation ;  and  he  was  destined  to  be  still  more  sur- 
prised, for  before  they  left  the  library,  he  heard  his  aunt  and 
uncle  address  them  all,  and  say  a  few  kind  words,  and  make 
inquiries  after  their  families  to  each. 

To  Ellen  that  evening  service  recalled  some  of  Mr.  Myrvin's 
instructions,  and  seemed  to  help  her  to  realize  those  new 
thoughts  and  feelings,  which  she  had  learned,  for  the  first  time, 
in  Wales.  Her  father  had,  indeed,  the  last  year  of  his  life  tried 
to  give  her  some  ideas  of  religion ;  but  having  only  so  very 
lately  begun  to  think  seriously  himself,  he  felt  diffident  and  un- 
certain of  his  own  powers,  and  so  left  an  impression  more  ol 
awe  toward  the  subject  than  of  love,  which  to  a  disposition  such 
as  Ellen's  was  unfortunate. 

A  very  short  time  sufficed  for  Percy  and  Emmeline  to  intro- 
duce their  cousins  to  all  the  delights  and  mysteries  of  their  dear 
jM  home ;  and  Oakwood  Hall  was  really  a  place  for  imagina- 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  71 

don  to  revel  in.  It  was  a  large  castellated  mansion,  fraught 
with  both  the  associations  of  the  past,  and  the  comforts  of  the 
present.  The  injuries  which  the  original  mansion  had  received 
during  the  civil  war  of  Charles  I.,  had,  when  the  family  returned 
at  the  Restoration,  caused  much  of  the  old  house  to  be  pulled 
down,  and  replaced  with  larger  rooms,  and  greater  conven- 
iences for  a  modern  dwelling-house,  retaining,  however,  quite 
sufficient  of  the  past  to  throw  interest  around  it. 

The  wings  were  still  flanked  with  turrets,  which  were  Percy's 
and  Emmeline's  delight ;  and  the  many  stair-cases,  leading  into 
all  sorts  of  nooks  and  corners  —  and  the  small  and  most  un- 
comfortable rooms,  because  some  of  them  happened  to  be  hung 
with  tapestry,  and  had  those  small  narrow  windows  sunk  in 
deep  recesses  —  were  pronounced  by  both  far  more  enjoyable 
than  the  beautiful  suit  of  rooms  forming  the  centre  of  the  man- 
sion, and  the  dwelling  of  the  family.  These  were  only  saved 
from  being  disagreeably  modern  —  Percy  would  declare  —  by 
their  beautiful  richly-polished  oaken  panels,  and  by  the  recesses 
which  the  large  windows  still  formed,  making  almost  a  room  by 
themselves.  The  hall,  too,  with  its  superb  sweep  of  staircase 
and  broad  carved  oaken  balustrade,  leading  to  a  gallery  above, 
which  opened  on  the  several  sleeping  apartments,  and  thus  per- 
mitting the  full  height  of  the  mansion,  from  base  to  roof,  to  be 
visible  from  the  hall.  The  doors  visible  in  the  gallery  opened 
mostly  on  dressing-rooms,  or  private  sitting-rooms,  which  led  to 
ihe  large,  airy  sleeping-rooms,  to  which  the  servants  had  access 
by  back  staircases  leading  from  their  hall ;  and  so  leaving  the 
oaken  staircase  and  gallery  entirely  to  the  use  of  the  family, 
and  of  many  a  game  of  noisy  play  had  that  gallery  been  the 
scene.  There  had  been  a  beautiful  little  chapel  adjoining  the 
mansion,  but  it  was  mercilessly  burned  to  the  ground  by  the  in- 
fatuated Puritans,  and  never  restored ;  the  venerable  old  church 
of  the  village  henceforth  serving  the  family  of  the  hall. 

Situated  on  the  banks  of  the  Dart,  whose  serpentine  wind- 
ings gave  it  the  appearance  of  a  succession  of  most  lovely  lakes, 
Nature  had  been  so  lavish  of  her  beauties  in  the  garden  and 
r>ark,  especially  in  the  magnificent  growth  of  the  superb  oaks, 
from  which  the  estate  took  its  name,  that  it  was  not  much  won- 
der Mrs.  Hamilton,  always  an  intense  lover  of  nature,  should 
have  become  so  attached  to  her  home,  as  never  to  feel  the  least 
inclination  to  leave  it.  She  did  not  wish  her  girls  to  visit  Lon- 
don till  a  few  months  before  Caroline  was  old  enough  to  be  in- 
troduced, to  give  them  then  finishing  masters  ;  and  to  that  time 
-!i«'  of  rourse  always  looked,  as  demanding  from  her  part  of  the 


"2  HOME   INFLUENCE. 

year  to  be  'spent  in  town.  The  career  of  Eleanor,  the  recollec- 
tions of  the  frivolity  and  error  into  which  her  own  early  youth 
had  been  thrown,  had  given  her  not  only  a  distaste,  but  an  act 
ual  dread  of  London  for  her  girls,  till  such  principles  and  asso- 
ciations had  been  instilled  which  would  enable  them  to  pass 
through  the  ordeal  of  successive  seasons  without  any  change  of 
character  or  feeling.  Her  sons,  since  their  tenth  year,  had 
more  than  once  accompanied  their  father  to  the  metropolis  j  but 
though  these  visits  were  always  sources  of  enjoyment,  espe- 
cially to  Percy,  they  never  failed  to  return  with  unabated 
affection  to  their  home,  and  to  declare  there  was  no  place  in 
England  like  it. 

Mr.  Hamilton,  though  in  neither  profession  nor  business,  was 
tar  from  being  an  idle  man.  His  own  estate  was  sufficiently 
large,  and  contained  a  sufficient  number  of  dependents,  for 
whose  mortal  and  immortal  welfare  he  was  responsible,  to  give 
him  much  employment  ;  and  in  addition  to  this,  the  home  inter- 
ests and  various  aspects  of  his  country  were  so  strongly  en- 
twined with  his  very  being  —  that,  though  always  refusing  to 
enter  Parliament,  he  was  the  prompter  and  encourager  of  many 
ft  political  movement,  having  for  its  object  amelioration  of  the 
poor,  and  improvement  of  the  whole  social  system  ;  closely  con- 
nected with  which,  as  he  was,  they  gave  him  neither  public 
fame  nor  private  emolument.  He  acted  in  all  things  from  the 
same  single-hearted  integrity  and  high  honor  which  caused  him 
to  refuse  the  title  proffered  to  his  father.  Her  husband's  con- 
nection with  many  celebrated  characters,  and  her  own  corres- 
pondence, and  occasional  visits  from  her  friends  to  Oakwood, 
prevented  Mrs.  Hamilton's  interest  from  too  complete  concen- 
tration in  her  home,  as,  in  her  first  retirement,  many  feared. 
She  had,  too,  some  friends  near  her,  whose  society  gave  her 
both  pleasure  and  interest ;  and  many  acquaintances  who  would 
have  visited  more  than  she  felt  any  inclination  for,  had  she  not 
had  the  happy  power  of  quietly  pursuing  her  own  path,  and  yet 
conciliating  all. 

The  Rev.  William  Howard  had  accepted  Mr.  Hamilton's 
eagerly-proffered  invitation  to  become  his  rector,  and  undertake 
the  education  of  his  boys,  from  very  peculiar  circumstances. 
He  had  been  minister  of  a  favorite  church  in  one  of  the  south- 
ern towns,  and  master  of  an  establishment  for  youths  of  high 
rank,  in  both  which  capacities  he  had  given  universal  satisfac- 
tion. The  reprehensible  conduct  of  some  of  his  pupils,  carried 
on  at  first  so  secretly  as  to  elude  his  knowledge,  at  length  be- 
ramc  so  notorious  as  to  demand  examination.  He  had  at  fmt 


HOME  INFLUENCE.  73 

refused  all  credence,  but  when  proved,  by  the  confused  replies 
of  all,  and  half  confession  of  some,  he  briefly  and  emphatically 
laid  before  them  the  enormity  of  their  conduct,  and  declared 
that,  as  confidence  was  entirely  broken  between  them,  he  would 
resign  the  honor  of  their  education,  refusing  to  admit  them  any 
longer  as  members  of  his  establishment.  In  vain  the  young 
men  implored  him  to  spare  them  the  disgrace  of  such  an  ex- 
pulsion ;  he  was  inexorable. 

This  conduct,  in  itself  so  upright,  was  painted  by  the  smart- 
ing offenders  in  such  colors,  that  Mr.  Howard  gradually  but 
surely  found  his  school  abandoned,  and  himself  so  misrepre- 
sented, that  a  spirit  less  self-possessed  and  secure  in  its  own 
integrity  must  have  sunk  beneath  it.  But  he  had  some  true 
friends,  and  none  more  active  and  earnest  than  Mr.  Hamilton. 
A  very  brief  residence  at  Oakwood  Rectory  removed  even  the 
recollection  of  the  injustice  he  had  experienced ;  and  he  him- 
self, as  pastor  and  friend,  proved  a  treasure  to  high  and  low. 
Ten  other  youths,  sons  of  the  neighboring  gentry,  became  his 
pupils,  their  fathers  gladly  following  in  Mr.  Hamilton's  lead. 

About  a  mile  and  a  half  across  the  park  was  Moorlands,  the 
residence  of  Lady  Helen  Grahame,  whose  name  had  been  sc 
often  mentioned  by  the  young  Hamiltons.  Her  husband  Mont- 
rose  Grahame,  had  been  Arthur  Hamilton's  earliest  friend,  at 
home,  at  college,  and  in  manhood.  Lady  Helen  the  youngest 
daughter  of  a  marquis,  had  been  intimate  with  Emmeline  and 
Eleanor  Manvers  from  childhood,  and  had  always  admired  and 
wished  to  resemble  the  former,  but  always  failed,  she  believed, 
from  being  constituted  so  differently  ;  others  might  have  thought 
from  her  utter  want  of  energy  and  mental  strength.  The  mar- 
riage at  first  appeared  likely  to  be  a  happy  one,  but  it  was  toe 
soon  proved  the  contrary.  Grahame  was  a  man  of  strict,  per- 
haps severe  principles ;  his  wife,  though  she  never  did  any 
thing  morally  wrong,  scarcely  knew  the  meaning  of  the  word. 
Provoked  with  himself  for  his  want  of  discrimination,  in  ima- 
gining Lady  Helen  so  different  to  the  being  she  really  was  ; 
more  than  once  discovering  that  she  did  not  speak  the  exact 
truth,  or  act  with  the  steady  uprightness  he  demanded,  his 
manner  became  almost  austere ;  and,  in  consequence,  becom- 
ing more  and  more  afraid  of  him,  Lady  Helen  sunk  lower  and 
lower  in  his  esteem. 

Two  girls  and  a  boy  were  the  fruits  of  this  union.  Lady 
Helen  had  made  a  great  many  ex  cellent  resolutions  with  regard 
to  their  rearing  and  education,  which  she  eagerly  confided  to 
Mrs.  Hamilton,  but  when  the  time  of  trial  came,  weakness  and 


T4  HOME    INFLUENCE. 

false  indulgence  so  predominated,  that  Grahame,  to  counteract 
these  evil  influences,  adopted  a  contrary  extreme,  and,  by  a 
system  of  constant  reserve  and  severity,  became  an  cbject  of  as 
much  terror  to  his  chiHren  as  he  was  to  his  wife.  But  he  did 
not  pursue  this  conduct  without  pain,  and  never  did  he  visit 
Oakwood  without  bitter  regret  that  his  home  was  not  the  same. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hamilton  had  often  tried  to  alter  the  aspect  of 
affairs  at  Moorlands  ;  the  former,  by  entreating  Grahame  to  be 
less  severe  ;  the  latter,  by  urging  Lady  Helen  to  a  firmer  mode 
of  conduct.  But  those  friendly  efforts  were  as  yet  entirely 
useless.  Grahame  became  a  member  of  Parliament,  which 
took  his  family  to  London  for  five  or  six  months  in  the  year  — 
a  particularly  agreeable  change  to  Lady  Helen,  who  then  asso- 
ciated with  her  sisters,  whose  families  were  conducted  much  on 
the  same  fashion  as  her  own.  but  unfortunately  only  increasing 
the  discomfort  of  Moorlands  when  they  returned  to  it.  And 
this  was  the  more  to  be  regretted,  from  the  fact  that  both  Gra- 
hame and  his  wife  were  full  of  good  intentions,  and  had  the 
one  been  more  yielding,  and  the  other  more  firm,  there  mighc 
have  been  no  small  share  of  happiness  for  both. 

But  heavy  as  Lady  Helen  thought  her  trial  in  the  want  of 
her  husband's  confidence  and  love,  and  which  she  had  greatly 
brought  upon  herself,  it  was  light  in  comparison  with  that  of 
Mrs.  Greville,  another  near  neighbor  and  valued  friend  of 
Mrs.  Hamilton.  She  had  loved  and  married  a  man  whose 
winning  manners  and  appearance,  and  an  ever-varying  flow  of 
intelligent  conversation,  had  completely  concealed,  till  too  late, 
his  real  character.  Left  at  a  very  early  age  his  own  master 
with  a  capital  estate  and  large  fortune ;  educated  at  a  very 
large  public  school,  at  which  he  learned  literally  nothing  but 
vice,  and  how  effectually  to  conceal  it ;  courted  and  flattered 
wherever  he  went,  he  became  vain,  overbearing,  and  extrava- 
gant ;  with  no  pursuit  but  that  of  gambling  in  all  its  varieties, 
even  hunting  and  shooting  could  not  be  thoroughly  enjoyed 
without  some  large  bets  depending  on  the  day's  sport :  his 
thoughts  from  boyhood  were  so  completely  centred  in  self, 
that  he  had  affection  for  nothing  else.  He  had  indeed  fancied 
lie  loved  Jessie  Summers,  when  he  had  so  successfully  wooed 
her ;  but  the  illusion  was  speedily  dispelled,  and  repeatedly  he 
cursed  his  folly  for  plaguing  himself  with  a  wife.  Elis  first 
child,  too,  was  a  girl  and  that  annoyed  him  still  m  xre ;  and 
when,  the  next  year,  a  boy  was  granted,  he  certainly  rejoiced, 
but  it  was  such  rejoicing  as  to  fill  his  wife's  heart  with  an  agony 
of  dread  ;  for  he  swore  he  would  make  his  boy  as  jovial  « 


HOME  INFLUENGK.  75 

spirit  as  himself  and  that  her  namby-pamby  ideas  should  have 
nothing  to  do  with  him. 

It  was  indeed  a  difficult  and  painful  task  Mrs.  Greville  had 
to  perform.  Though  her  husband  would  spend  weeks  and  even 
months  at  a  time  away,  the  impressions  she  so  earnestly  and 
prayerfully  sought  to  instil  into  her  son's  heart  were,  or  appear- 
ed to  be,  completely  destroyed  by  her  husband's  interference 
the  whole  time  of  his  sojourn  at  his  home.  It  was  his  pleasure 
to  thwart  her  every  plan,  laugh  at  her  fine  notions,  make  a 
mockery  of  all  that  was  good,  and  holy,  and  self-denying ;  and 
all  in  the  presence  of  his  children ;  succeeding  in  making 
Alfred  frequently  guilty  of  disrespect  and  unkindness,  but  fail- 
ing entirely  with  Mary,  who,  though  of  such  a  fragile  frame 
and  gentle  spirit  that  her  father's  visits  almost  always  caused 
her  a  fit  of  illness,  so  idolized  her  suffering  but  never-murmur- 
ing mother,  that  she  only  redoubled  her  attention  and  respect 
whenever  she  saw  her  more  tried  than  usual.  This  conduct, 
of  course,  only  made  her  an  object,  equally  with  her  mother, 
of  her  father's  sneers  and  taunts,  but  she  bore  it  with  the  true 
spirit  of  a  martyr.  Suffering  was  doing  for  her  what  Herbert 
Hamilton  was  naturally  —  making  her  spiritual  and  thoughtful 
far  beyond  her  years,  and  drawing  her  and  Herbert  together 
with  such  a  bond  of  mutual  reverence  and  sympathy,  that  to 
talk  to  him  was  her  greatest  consolation,  and  to  endeavor  to 
lessen  her  sorrows  one  of  his  dearest  pleasures. 

Alfred  was  not  naturally  an  evil-disposed  boy,  and,  when  his 
father  was  from  home,  seldom  failed  either  in  respect  or  obedi- 
ence. Mrs.  Greville  possessed  the  rather  rare  combination  of 
extreme  submissiveness  with  a  natural  dignity  and  firmness, 
which  enabled  her  to  retain  the  reverence  and  sympathy  of  her 
friends  and  her  household,  without  once  stopping  to  receive 
their  pity.  It  was  generally  supposed,  by  those  who  did  not 
know  her  personally,  that  she  was  one  of  those  too  soft  and 
self-denying  characters  who  bring  on  themselves  the  evils  they 
deplore  ;  but  this  in  Mrs.  Greville's  case  was  a  very  great  mis- 
take. It  was  impossible  to  associate  even  casually  with  her, 
without  feeling  intuitively  that  she  suffered  deeply,  but  the 
emotion  such  conviction  called  was  respect  alone. 

As  anxious  and  as  earnest  a  parent  as  Mrs.  Hamilton  her- 
self, Mrs.  Greville  failed  not  to  inculcate  the  good  in  both  her 
children,  and  still  more  forcibly,  when  they  became  old  enough 
to  observe,  by  example  than  by  precept.  But  with  Alfred 
there  must  have  been  an  utter  hopelessness  as  to  the  fruit  of  her 
r,nxious  labors,  had  she  not  possessed  that  clinging  single-heart- 


76  HOMK    INFLUENCE. 

ed  trust  which  taught  her  that  no  difficulty  should  deter  from  n 
simple  duty,  and  that  nothing  was  too  hard  for  Hun  who  —  if 
He  saw  that  she  shrunk  not  from  the  charge  and  responsibility 
which,  in  permitting  her  to  become  a  mother,  he  had  given,  and 
did  all  she  could  to  counteract  those  evil  influences,  for  the  re- 
moval of  which  she  had  no  power — would,  in  His  own  good 
time,  reward,  if  not  on  earth  —  with  Hun  in  Heaven ;  and  so 
untiringly,  as  unmurmuringly,  she  struggled  on. 


CHAPTER   III. 

HOME    SCENE. VISITORS. CHILDISH    MEDITATIONS. 

THE  part  of  the  day  which,  to  Emmeline  Hamilton  was  the 
happiest  of  all,  was  that  in  which  she  and  Caroline,  and  now,  of 
course,  Ellen,  were  with  their  mother  alone.  Not  that  she 
particularly  liked  the  very  quiet  employment  of  plain  work, 
which  was  then  their  usual  occupation,  but  that  she  could  talk 
without  the  least  restraint  either  about  her  lessons,  or  her  plea- 
sures, or  her  thoughts,  and  the  stories  or  histories  she  had  been 
reading,  and  if  she  thought  wrong  no  one  ever  corrected  her  so 
delightfully,  so  impressively  as  "mamma."  The  mornings, 
from  three  to  four  hours,  according  as  their  age  and  studies  re- 
quired, were  always  under  the  control  of  Miss  Harcourt,  with 
such  visits  from  Mrs.  Hamilton  as  gave  an  increased  interest 
to  exertion,  and  such  interruption  only  as  permitted  their  prac- 
tice and  lessons  in  music,  which  three  times  a  week  Mrs.  Ha- 
milton had  as  yet  herself  bestowed.  The  dressing-bell  always 
rung  at  half-past  three,  and  dinner  was  at  four,  to  allow  the 
lads'  return  from  Mr.  Howard's,  whose  daily  lessons  commenced 
at  nine  and  concluded  at  three.  From  half-past  one  to  half- 
past  three,  in  the  very  short  days,  was  devoted  to  recreation, 
walking,  or  driving,  and  in  the  longer,  to  Emmeline's  favorite 
time  —  an  hour  at  work  with  her  mother,  and  the  remainder 
to  the  preparation  of  lessons  and  exercises  for  the  next  day, 
which  in  the  winter  occupied  from  five  to  six.  From  six  to 
seven  in  the  same  generally  gloomy  season  they  read  aloud 
some  entertaining  book  with  their  mother  and  Miss  Harcourt, 
und  seven  was  the  delightful  hour  of  a  general  reunion  at  tea 
:ind  signal  for  such  recreation  till  nine  as  they  felt  inclined  for; 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  77 

ttu.it  bi others  having  been  employed  for  Mr.  Howard  part  of 
the  time  between  dinner  and  tea,  with  sufficient  earnestness  tfl 
enjoy  the  rest  and  recreation  afterward,  quite  as  buoyantly  and 
gladly  as  their  sisters  ;  and  many  a  merry  dance  enlivened  their 
winter  evenings. 

In  the  summer,  of  course,  this  daily  routine  was  frequently 
varied  by  most  delightful  excursions  in  the  country.  Mrs, 
Hamilton  earnestly  longing  to  implant  a  love  of  Nature  and  all 
its  fresh,  pure  associations  in  the  minds  of  her  children  while 
yet  young,  knowing  that  once  obtained,  the  pleasures  of  the 
world  would  be  far  less  likely  to  obtain  too  powerful  dominion. 
That  which  the  world  often  terms  romance,  she  felt  to  be  a 
high,  pure  sense  of  poetry  in  the  Universe  and  in  Man,  which 
she  was  quite  as  anxious  to  instil  as  many  mothers  to  root  out. 
She  did  not  believe  that  to  cultivate  the  spiritual  needed  the 
banishment  of  the  matter  of  fact ;  but  she  believed,  that  to 
infuse  the  latter  with  the  former  would  be  their  best  and  surest 
preventive  against  all  that  was  low  and  mean  ;  their  best  help 
in  the  realization  of  a  constant  unfailing  piety.  For  the  same 
reason  she  cultivated  a  taste  for  the  beautiful,  not  only  in  her 
girls,  but  in  her  boys  —  and  beauty,  not  in  arts  and  nature 
alone,  but  in  character.  She  did  not  allude  to  beauty  of  merely 
the  high  and  striking  kind,  but  to  the  lowly  virtues,  struggles, 
faith,  and  heroism  in  the  poor  —  their  forbearance  and  kindness 
to  one  another  —  marking  something  to  admire,  even  in  the 
most  rugged  and  surly,  that  at  first  sight  would  seem  so  little 
worthy  of  notice.  It  was  gradually,  and  almost  unconsciously, 
to  accustom  her  daughters  to  such  a  train  of  thought  and  senti- 
ment, that  she  so  particularly  laid  aside  one  part  of  the  day  to 
have  them  with  her  alone  ;  ostensibly,  it  was  to  give  part  of 
their  day  to  working  for  the  many  poor,  to  whom  gifts  of  ready- 
made  clothing  are  sometimes  much  more  valuable  than  money  ; 
but  the  education  of  that  one  hour  she  knew  might,  for  the 
right  cultivation  of  the  heart,  do  more  than  the  mere  teaching 
of  five  or  six,  and  that  education,  much  as  she  loved  and  valued 
Miss  Harcourt,  she  had  from  the  first  resolved  should  come 
from  her  alone. 

To  Emmeline  this  mode  of  life  was  so  happy,  she  could  not 
imagine  any  thing  happier.  But  Caroline  often  and  often 
envied  her  great  friend  Annie  Grahame,  and  believed  that 
occasional  visits  to  London  would  make  her  much  happier  than 
remaining  all  the  year  round  at  Oakwood,  and  on  y  with  her 
own  family.  She  knew  the  expression  of  such  sentiments, 
would  meet  no  sympathy  at  home,  and  certainly  uot  obtain 
5 


78  HOME   INFLUENCE. 

their  gratification,  so  she  tried  to  check  them,  except  when  in 
company  with  Annie  and  Lady  Helen ;  but  her  mother  knsw 
them,  and,  from  the  discontent  and  unhappiness  they  so  often 
engendered  in  her  child,  caused  her  both  pain  and  uneasiness. 
But  she  did  not  waver  in  her  plans,  because  only  in  Emmeline 
they  seemed  to  succeed :  nor  did  she,  as  perhaps  some  over- 
scrupulous mothers  would  have  done,  check  Caroline's  associa- 
tion with  Miss  Grahame.  She  knew  that  those  principles  must 
be  indeed  of  little  worth,  which  could  only  actuate  in  retire- 
ment, and  when  free  from  temptation.  That  to  prevent  inti- 
macy with  all,  except  with  those  of  whom  she  exactly  approved, 
would  be  impossible,  if  she  ever  meant  her  daughters  to  enter 
the  world ;  and  therefore  she  endeavored  so  to  obtain  their 
unrestrained  confidence  and  affection,  as  to  be  regarded,  both 
now  and  when  they  wrere  young  women,  as  their  first,  best,  and 
truest  friend ;  and  that  end  obtained,  intimacies  with  their 
young  companions,  however  varied  their  character,  she  felt 
would  do  no  permanent  harm. 

"  Dear,  dear  mamma !  "  exclaimed  Emmeline,  one  morning 
about  a  week  after  her  parents'  return,  and  dropping  her  work 
to  speak  more-  eagerly,  "  you  cannot  think  how  delightful  it 
does  seem  to  have  you  at  home  again ;  I  missed  this  hour  of 
the  day  so  very  much ;  I  did  net  know  how  much  I  loved  it 
when  I  always  had  it,  but  when  you  were  away,  every  time 
the  hour  came  I  missed  you,  and  longed  for  you  so  much  that  — 
I  am  afraid  you  will  think  me  very  silly  —  I  could  not  help 
crying." 

"  Why,  how  Percy  must  have  laughed  at  you,  Emmy  I " 

"  Indeed,  he  did  not,  mamma ;  I  think  he  felt  half  inclined 
to  cry  too,  the  first  day  or  two  that  he  came  home  from  Mr. 
Howard's,  and  could  not  rush  up  into  your  dressing-room,  as  he 
always  does.  He  said  it  was  a  very  different  thing  for  you  to 
go  from  home,  than  for  him  to  go  to  London,  and  he  did  not 
like  it  at  all ;  nor  Herbert,  nor  Caroline,  neither ;  though  they 
did  not  say  so  much  about  it." 

"  I  did  not  miss  mamma  after  the  first,  quite  so  much  as  you 
did,  Emmeline,"  replied  her  sister,  ingenuously;  "because 
when  Lady  Helen  returned  from  London,  she  made  me  go 
there  so  often,  and  as  I  know  you  never  refuse  me  that  indul- 
gence, mamma,  and  Miss  Harcourt  did  not  object,  I  was  glad 
to  do  so." 

"I  have  only  one  objection,  my  dear  Caroline,  'ind  I  •  hink 
you  know  what  that  is." 

"That  whenever  I  am  witli  Annie   I  trink   and  wish  ninrt 


HOME    INFLUENCE.  79 

ibout  going  to  London,  mamina;  I  arn  afraid  I  do;  but  indeed 
I  try  to  think  that  you  must  know  what  is  better  for  me,  and 
try  not  to  be  discontented,  though  sometimes  I  know  I  do  not 
succeed."  and  her  eyes  filled  with  tears. 

"  I  am  satisfied  that  you  endeavor  to  trust  my  experience, 
my  love ;  I  am  quite  aware  of  all  the  difficulties  you  have  to 
encounter  in  doing  so,  and  therefore  your  most  trifling  conquest 
)f  self  is  a  great  source  of  comfort  to  me.  I  myself  should  feel 
that  the  pain  of  increased  discontent,  and  so  of  course  increased 
difficulty  in  conquering  its  constant  accompaniment,  ill  temper, 
would  more  than  balance  the  pleasure  of  Annie's  society,  and 
so  not  indulge  in  the  one  so  often  at  the  expense  of  the  other ; 
but  of  that  you  are  yourself  the  best  judge,  and  you  know  in 
such  a  case  I  always  permit  you  to  be  a  free  agent.  But  what 
has  become  of  Mary,  Emmeline  ?  I  begged  Mrs.  Greville  to 
let  you  be  as  much  together  as  possible  during  my  absence ; 
did  not  her  society  afford  you  some  pleasure  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  mamma,  a  great  deal ;  but  unfortunately  Mr.  Gre- 
ville was  at  home  almost  all  the  time  you  were  away,  and  poor 
Mary  could  not  often  leave  her  mother,  and  I  don't  feel  as  if  it 
were  quite  right  for  me  to  go  so  often  there,  when  he  is  at 
home.  I  am  sure  Mrs.  Greville  and  Mary  must  both  feel  still 
more  uncomfortable  when  any  one  is  there  to  see  how  unkind 
he  is,  and  hear  the  cruel  things  he  says.  Oh,  how  I  do  wish  I 
could  make  poor  Mary  more  happy  !  " 

"  She  would  tell  you  that  affection  is  a  gi'eat  comfort  to  her, 
Emmy." 

"  Yours  and  Herbert's  may  be,  mamma,  because  you  are 
both  so  much  better  and  wiser  than  I  am ;  but  I  can  do  so 
little,  so  very  little." 

"  You  can  be  and  are  a  great  source  of  interest  to  her,  my 
dear ;  and  when  we  wish  very  much  to  make  another  person 
happy,  you  may  be  quite  sure  that  the  most  trifling  act  gives 
pleasure ;  but  Ellen  looks  very  much  as  if  she  would  like  to 
know  who  this  Mary  is,  that  is  so  tried  —  suppose  you  tell  her." 

Emmeline  eagerly  obeyed,  painting  her  friend  in  such  glow- 
ing  colors,  that  Ellen  felt,  however  tried  she  might  be,  a  person 
30  good  and  holy  must  be  happy,  notwithstanding ;  besides,  to 
be  loved  so  by  Mrs.  Hamilton  and  Herbert,  discovered  to  her 
mind  such  superior  qualities,  that  she  almost  wondered  how 
Emmelin^  could  speak  of  her  so  familiarly,  and  think  of  her  as 
her  own  particular  friend.  But  the  conversation  on  her,  and 
then  on  :ther  topics,  so  interested  her,  that  she  was  almost  as 
sorry  as  her  cousin,  when  it  was  interrupted  bv  a  visit  from 
Lady  Helen  Grahame  ani  her  daughter. 


80  HOME   INFLUENCE 

"  Returned  at  length,  dearest  Emmeline  ' "  was  the  former's 
lively  greeting,  and  evincing  far  more  warmth  of  manner  than 
was  usual  to  her.  "  Do  you  know,  the  banks  of  the  Dart  have 
seemed  so  desolate  without  their  guardian  spirit,  that  the  very 
flowers  have  hung  their  heads,  and  the  trees  are  withered  ?  " 

"  I  rather  think  the  change  of  season,  and  not  my  absence, 
has  been  the  cause  of  these  melancholy  facts,"  replied  Mrs. 
Hamilton,  in  the  same  tone  ;  "  but  even  London  will  not  change 
your  kind  thoughts  for  me,  Helen." 

"  Nay,  I  must  follow  the  example  of  my  neighbors,  rich  and 
poor,  whom  you  may  appeal  to  as  to  the  fact  of  your  absence 
causing  terrible  lamentation ;  ask  this  naughty  little  girl  too. 
who  scarcely  ever  came  to  see  me,  because  she  had  so  many 
things  to  do  to  please  mamma ;  but  forgive  me,"  she  added, 
more  seriously,  as  she  glanced  on  the  deep  mourning  of  her 
friend,  and  indeed  of  all  the  group ;  "  what  a  cold,  heartless 
being  you  must  believe  me  to  run  on  in  this  way,  when  there, 
has  been  so  sad  a  cause  for  your  absence  —  poor  Eleanor !  " 

"  I  trust  we  may  say  happy  Eleanor,  my  dear  Helen ;  mercy 
has  indeed  been  shown  to  her  and  to  me  —  but  we  will  talk  of 
this  another  time.  Annie,"  she  continued,  addressing  Miss 
Grahame,  Avho  was  already  deep  in  conversation  with  Caro- 
line, "  I  have  another  little  girl  to  introduce  to  you,  whom  I 
hope  you  will  be  as  friendly  with  as  with  Caroline  and  Emme- 
line." . 

The  young  lady  turned  round  at  the  words,  but  her  sole  no- 
tice of  Ellen,  who  had  come  timidly  forward,  was  a  haughty 
stare,  a  fashionable  courtesy,  and  a  few  unintelligible  words, 
which  caused  Emmeline  to  feel  so  indignant,  that  it  was  with 
difficulty  she  kept  silence,  and  made  Ellen  so  uncomfortable, 
that  it  was  with  even  more  than  her  usual  shyness,  she  received 
Lady  Helen's  proffered  hand. 

"  And  why  not  introduce  her  to  me  too,  Emmeline  ?  I  knew 
your  mother  when  she  was  little  older  than  you  are,  my  dear ; 
BO  I  hope  you  will  learn  to  know  and  to  like  me  as  fast  as  you 
can." 

Ellen  might  have  found  courage  to  reply  for  there  was  an 
interest  attached  to  all  who  had  known  her  mother ;  but  as  she 
raised  her  eyes  to  speak,  she  again  encountered  Annie's  rude 
and  disagreeable  stare,  and  the  words  died  on  her  lips.  The 
young  party  were,  however,  soon  all  in  the  garden,  for  Mrs. 
Hamilton  never  made  any  scruple  in  dismissing  her  children, 
when  she  wished  to  speak  on  subjects  she  did  not  c  loose  them 
to  hear;  and  she  was  anxious  so  to  relate  Eleanor'?  ilhuss  and 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  81 

cLaage  jf  sentiment,  as  to  remove  the  impressions  which  her 
early  career  had  left  on  Lady  Helen's  memory. 

"  It  must  be  nearly  time  for  my  brothers  to  be  returning ; 
shall  we  go  and  look  for  them,  Ellen?  I  dare  say  Edward  will 
have  a  great  deal  to  tell  you,"  was  Emmeline's  affectionate  ad- 
dress, as  Annie  and  Caroline  turned  in  a  different  direction, 
and  generally  judging  others  by  herself,  she  thought  that  being 
Edward's  first  day  of  regular  attendance  on  Mr.  Howard,  Ellen 
would  like  to  know  all  about  it  as  soon  as  possible,  and  they 
proceeded  accordingly. 

"  Well,  how  do  you  like  your  new  cousins,  what  are  they 
like  ? "  inquired  Miss  Grahame,  the  moment  she  had  Cai'oline 
entirely  to  herself. 

"  Edward  I  think  I  may  like  very  much ;  he  is  so  affectionate 
and  so  good-natured,  and  as  merry  and  full  of  fun  as  Percy. 
And  he  is  so  handsome,  Annie,  I  think  even  you  -would  admire 
him." 

"  Then  altogether  he  must  be  very  unlike  his  sister.  I  never 
saw  a  girl  so  plain,  and  I  am  sure  she  looks  as  if  no  fun  could 
exist  near  her." 

"Mamma  says  we  must  remember  how  short  a  time  has 
elapsed  since  poor  aunt's  death,  and  also  that  Ellen  is  not  strong 
enough  to  be  very  lively." 

"  That  does  not  at  all  account  for  her  looking  cross.  I  am 
sure  she  has  nothing  to  be  ill-tempered  about ;  there  are  few 
girls  in  her  situation  who  would  have  made  one  of  your  family, 
as  she  will  be.  Mamma  said  it  would  be  a  very  anxious  thing 
for  Mrs.  Hamilton." 

"Mamma  did  seem  to  think  so,"  replied  Caroline,  thought- 
fully; "but  I  fancy  you  are  wrong,  Annie.  Ellen  has  not  yet 
given  any  proof  of  ill-temper." 

"  She  has  had  no  time,  my  dear ;  but  no  one  can  be  deceived 
by  such  a  face.  My  cousin,  Lady  Adelaide  Maldon,  told  me 
she  could  always  judge  people  by  their  faces.  But  do  you  like 
her  as  well  as  her  brother,  Caroline  ?  " 

"Ask  me  that  question  this  day  month,  my  dear  Annie ;  I  can 
not  answer  you  now,  for  I  really  do  not  know.  I  certainly  do 
not  see  any  thing  particularly  striking  in  her  yet  —  I  do  not  un- 
derstand her ;  she  is  so  dreadfully  shy  or  timid,  and  so  very  in- 
animate, one  cannot  tell  whether  she  is  pleased  or  sorry.  To 
lell  you  the  real  truth,  I  am  afraid  I  shall  not  like  her." 

"Why  afraid?" 

"  Because  mamma  would  be  so  sorry  were  she  to  know  it.  1 
know  she  wishes  us  to  '^ve  one  another  " 


M  HOME    INFLUENCE. 

"Nonsense,  Caroline.  Mrs.  Hamilton  cannot  be  3C  unretv 
•ionable  as  to  expect  you  to  love  everybody  alike." 

"Mamma  is  never  unreasonable,"  replied  Caroline,  with 
K[  irit ;  "  and  I  do  wish,  Annie,  you  would  treat  Ellen  exactly 
ns  you  do  us." 

"  Indeed,  I  shall  not.  What  is  Colonel  Fortescue's  daughter 
to  me  ?  Now  don't  be  angry,  Caroline,  you  and  I  are  too  old 
friends  to  quarrel  for  nothing :  I  shall  certainly  hate  Ellen  alto- 
gether, if  she  is  to  be  a  subject  of  dispute.  Come,  look  kind 
again;"  and  the  caress,  with  which  she  concluded,  restored 
Caroline's  serenity,  and  other  subjects  were  discussed  between 
them. 

Annie  Grahame  was  a  few  months  younger  than  Caroline 
Hamilton,  (who  was  nearly  thirteen,)  but  from  having  been 
emancipated  from  the  nursery  and  school-room  at  a  very  early 
age,  and  made  her  mother's  companion  and  confidant  in  all  her 
home  vexations  —  very  pretty  and  engaging  —  she  was  very 
much  noticed,  and  her  visits  to  her  titled  relations  in  London, 
by  causing  her  to  imitate  their  fashionable  manners,  terms  of 
speech,  thoughts  on  dress,  and  rank,  &c.,  made  her  a  woman 
many  years  before  her  time ;  and  though  to  Lady  Helen's  family 
and  to  Lady  Helen  herself  this  made  her  still  more  agreeable, 
from  becoming  so  very  companionable  ;  to  Mrs.  Hamilton,  and 
to  all,  in  fact,  who  loved  childhood  for  childhood's  sake,  it  was 
a  source  of  real  regret,  as  banishing  all  the  freshness  and  art- 
lessness  and  warmth  which  ought  to  have  been  the  characteris- 
tics of  her  age.  Her  father  was  the  only  one  of  her  own  fainil) 
who  did  not  admire  — and  so  tried  to  check  —  this  assumption 
of  fine  ladyism,  on  the  part  of  his  daughter;  but  it  was  not 
likely  he  could  succeed,  and  he  only  estranged  from  him  the 
affections  of  his  child. 

Annie  Grahame  had  a  great  many  fashionable  acquaintances 
in  London,  but  she  still  regarded  Caroline  Hamilton  as  her  fa- 
vorite friend.  Why,  she  could  not  exactly  tell,  except  that  it 
was  so  very,  very  delightful  to  have  some  one  in  the  country  to 
whom  she  could  dilate  on  all  the  pleasures  of  London,  display 
her  new  dresses,  new  music,  drawings,  work,  &c.  (not  however 
considering  it  at  all  necessary  to  mention  that  her  work  and 
drawings  were  only  half  her  own,  and  Caroline  was  much  too 
truthful  herself  to  imagine  it,  and  her  mother  too  anxious  to  re- 
tain that  guileless  simplicity  to  enlighten  her,  as  she  was  well 
capable  of  doing.)  Annie's  quick  eye  discovered  that  at  such 
times  Caroline  certainly  envied  her,  and  she  imagined  she  must 
be  a  pel  son  of  infinite  consequence  fo  excite  such  a  feeling,  and 


HOME   INFLUENCE  S3 

rUi."!  was  suck  a  pleasant  sensation,  that  she  sought  C  iroline  its 
much  as  possible  during  their  stay  at  Moorlands.  Of  Mrs. 
Hamilton,  indeed,  she  stood  in  such  uncomfortable  awe,  though 
that  lady  never  addressed  her  except  in  kindness,  that  as  she 
grew  older,  it  actually  became  dislike ;  but  this  only  increased, 
her  intimacy  with  Caroline,  whom  she  had  determined  should 
be  as  unlike  her  mother  as  possible ;  and  as  this  friendship  was 
the  only  one  of  his  daughter's  sentiments  which  gave  Mr.  Gra- 
>«ame  unmixed  satisfaction,  he  encouraged  it  by  bringhig  them 
together  as  often  as  he  could. 

Emmeline  and  Ellen,  meanwhile,  had  pursued  their  walk  in 
silence,  both  engrossed  with  their  own  thoughts  (for  that  child- 
ren of  eleven  years,  indeed  of  any  age,  do  not  think,  because 
when  asked  what  they  are  thinking  about  their  answer  is  inva- 
riably "  Nothing,"  is  one  of  those  mistaken  notions  which 
modern  education  is,  we  hope,  exploding.)  Emmeline  was  so 
indignant  with  Annie  that  she  felt  more  sure  than  ever  that 
she  did  not  and  could  never  like  her.  "  She  is  always  talking 
of  things  mamma  says  are  of  such  little  consequence,  and  is  so 
proud  and  contemptuous,  and  I  am  afraid  she  does  not  always 
tell  the  exact  truth.  I  wonder  if  it  is  wrong  to  feel  so  toward 
her ;  one  day  when  I  am  quite  alone  with  mamma,  I  will  ask 
her,"  was  the  tenor  of  her  meditations. 

But  Ellen,  though  Annie's  greeting  had  caused  her  to  shrink 
still  more  into  herself,  and  so  produced  pain,  was  not  thinking 
only  of  her.  The  whole  of  that  hour's  intimate  association 
with  Mrs.  Hamilton  had  puzzled  her ;  she  had  doted  on  her 
father  —  she  was  sure  she  loved  her  aunt  almost  as  dearly,  but 
could  she  ever  have  given  words  to  that  affection  as  Emmeline 
had  done,  and  as  Edward  always  did  ?  and  so,  perhaps,  after 
all,  she  did  not  feel  as  they  did,  though  the  wish  was  so  strong 
to  caress  her  aunt,  and  sit  as  close  and  lovingly  by  her  as  Her- 
bert and  Emmeline  and  even  Edward  did,  that  its  very  indul- 
gence seemed  to  give  her  pain.  Then  Caroline's  confession 
too  —  could  she  ever  have  had  courage  to  confess  the  indul- 
gence of  a  feeling  which  she  knew  to  be  wrong  —  and  all  her 
aunt  had  said  both  to  Caroline  and  Emmeline  so  fastened  on 
her  mind  as  to  make  her  head  ache,  and  she  quite  started  when 
a  loud  shout  sounded  near  them. 

"  It  is  only  Percy,"  said  Emmeline  laughing ;  I  dare  say  he 
and  Edward  are  running  a  race  or  having  some  sort  of  fun." 
And  so  they  were ;  laughing,  shouting,  panting,  they  came  full 
speed,  darting  in  and  out  the  trees  in  every  variety  of  mathe- 
matical figures  their  ingenuity  could  frame;  but  as  soon  as 


B4  HOME   INFLUENCE 

Percy's  restless  eye  discovered  Emmeline,  he  directed  his 
course  toward  her,  exclaiming,  "Holla,  Edward,  stop  running 
fur  to-day :  come  here,  and  let  us  be  sober.  Why,  Tiny,  what 
brings  you  and  Ellen  out  now  ?  It  is  not  your  usual  time." 
•  "  Ellen,  Ellen,  I  have  had  such  a  happy  day ;  I  like  Mr. 
Howard  more  than  ever  (he  had  only  seen  him  twice  before.) 
I  am  sure  I  shall  get  on  with  him,  and  he  will  teach  me  astro- 
nomy and  navigation  too,  so  I  shall  not  be  ashamed  to  go  to  sea 
,>iext  year ;  I  shall  learn  so  much  first." 

"  Let  nie  walk  home  with  you,  dear  Edward,  and  do  tell  rne 
every  thing  you  have  done  and  are  going  to  do,"  asked  Ellen, 
clinging  to  his  arm,  and  looking  in  his  face  with  such  an  expres- 
sion that  there  was  little  trace  of  ill-temper.  Emmeline  mean- 
while had  made  her  brother  a  party  in  her  indignation  against 
Annie's  pride,  which  he  termed  insolence,  vowing  he  would 
make  her  feel  it.  And  as  they  came  in  sight  of  her  and  Caro- 
line, he  called  out  to  Ellen,  who,  all  her  timidity  returning, 
tried  to  draw  Edward  into  another  walk. 

"  Not  there,  not  there,  Miss  Nelly,  you  are  not  going  to  cut 
me  in  that  fashion.  You  have  talked  quite  enough  to  Edward 
and  mnst  now  come  to  me.  Edward,  there's  mamma  ;  off  with 
you  to  tell  your  tale  of  delight  to  her."  And  Edward  did  not 
wait  a  second  bidding,  leaving  Ellen  to  Percy,  who  threw 
his  arm  affectionately  round  her,  and  began  talking  to  her  so 
amusingly  that  she  could  not  help  laughing,  and  so  devoted  did 
he  appear  to  her,  that  he  had  only  time  to  greet  Miss  Grahame, 
with  a  very  marked  and  polite  bow,  and  passed  on.  He  wished 
to  provoke,  and  he  succeeded,  for  Annie  was  always  particularly 
pleased  when  the  handsome,  spirited  Percy  Hamilton  paid  her 
any  attention,  and  that  he  should  be  so  devoted  to  his  little 
pale,  disagreeable-looking  cousin,  as  not  even  to  give  her  a 
word,  annoyed  her  as  much  as  he  desired. 

Edward's  hasty  progress  to  his  aunt  was  slightly  checked 
at  seeing  a  stranger  with  her,  but  when  he  was  introduced 
he  made  liis  bow  with  so  much  of  his  mother's  grace,  that, 
combined  with  the  extraordinary  likeness,  and  her  feelings 
already  interested  in  Mrs.  Hamilton's  account  of  her  sister's 
pufferings  and  death,  Lady  Helen  could  not  for  the  moment 
peak  except  to  exclaim,  "Oh,  how  that  look  recalls  tl.e  past ! 
I  could  almost  fancy  poor  Eleanor  herself  stood  before  me." 

"  Did  you  —  did  you  know  my  mother,  madam  ?  "  said  Ed- 
ward, with  so  much  eagerness  that  his  cheeks  crimsoned  and 
his  voice  trembled.  "Were  you  one  of  mamma's"  —  but  he 
rould  not  finish  the  penter.?e.  and  leaning  his  head  against  tin 
innt.  he  burst  into  tears. 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  85 

"  Poor  child ! "  said  Lady  Helen  pityingly,  as  Mrs.  Hamil- 
ton pressed  him  closer  to  her,  and  stoc  ped  down  to  kiss  his 
forehead  without  speaking ;  and  that  sudden  and  unexpected  dis- 
play of  feeling  contrasted  with  Ellen's  painful  shyness,  stamped 
at  once  and  indelibly  Lady  Helen's  opinion  of  the  two  orphans. 


CHAPTER    IV. 

VARIETIES. 

A  FEW  days  more  brought  Mrs.  Greville  and  Mary  to  well- 
come  their  friends,  and  Ellen  had  again  the  pain  of  being 
introduced  to  strangers  ;  but  this  time  it  was  only  the  pain  of 
her  own  shyness,  for  could  she  have  overcome  that  feeling,  she 
might  have  felt  even  pleasure.  As  it  was,  the  gentle  voice  and 
manner  with  which  Mrs.  Greville  addressed  her,  and  the  timid, 
yet  expressive  glance  of  Mary  told  of  such  sympathy  and  kind- 
ness, that  she  felt  attracted  toward  both,  and  could  quite  enter 
into  Emmeline's  enthusiastic  admiration  of  her  friend ;  not, 
however,  believing  it  possible  that  she  herself  could  ever  be 
worthy  to  win  Mary's  regard.  Taught  from  such  a  very  early 
age  to  believe  herself  so  far  inferior  to  Edward,  such  characters 
as  Herbert  and  Mary  appeared  to  her  so  exalted,  that  it  was 
quite  impossible  they  could  ever  think  of  her ;  the  constant 
little  acts  of  unobtrusive  kindness  that  her  cousin  showed  her, 
she  attributed  to  his  extreme  goodness,  not  from  the  most 
trifling  merit  in  herself.  She  did  indeed  love  him  very  dearly, 
the  best  next  to  her  aunt ;  but  so  much  of  reverence  mingled 
with  it,  that  she  was  almost  more  reserved  with  him  than  with 
the  others.  But  Herbert  was  naturally  reserved  himself  in 
words,  and  so  he  did  not  think  any  thing  about  it,  except  to 
wish  and  endeavor  to  make  his  little  cousin  happier  than  she 
seemed. 

When  contrasting  Mary  Greville  with  Annie  Grahame,  as 
she  was  rather  fond  of  doing,  Emmeline  became  sc  afraid  she 
was  disliking  the  latter  more  than  she  ought  to  do,  that  she 
never  rested  till  she  made  an  opportunity  to  confess  all  her 
ladings  to  her  mother,  and  beg  her  to  tell  her  if  they  wert 
,ery  wrong,  and  if  she  ought  to  like  her. 

"  I  am  not  so  un ronscionable  as  to  expect  you  to  like  every 


86  HOME    INFLUENCE. 

one  with  whom  you  associate,  my  dear  little  girl,"  replied  her 
mother,  fondly,  fcr  there  was  something  in  Emmeline's  guile- 
less confidence  irresistibly  claiming  love.  "All  we  have  to  do 
when  we  find  nothing  that  exactly  sympathizes  with  our  own 
feelings,  or  cur  own  ideas  of  right  and  wrong,  is  to  try  and  find 
out  some  reason  for  their  being  so  different;  some  circum 
stance  that  may  have  exposed  them  to  greater  temptations  and 
trials,  for  you  know  I  have  often  told  you  pleasure  and  amuse- 
ments, if  too  much  indulged  in,  are  a  much  greater  trial  to 
some  than  sorrow  and  pain.  Now,  Annie  has  had  a  great 
many  more  temptations  of  this  kind  than  you  or  Mary,  and  we 
cannot  expect  one  so  very  young  entirely  to  resist  them." 

"  Do  you  mean,  mamma,  her  going  out  so  much  in  Lon- 
don ?  " 

"  Yes,  love  ;  she  is  very  much  noticed,  and  so  perhaps  thinks 
a  little  more  of  appearance  and  dress  and  pleasure  than  is  quite 
necessary." 

"  But  Lady  Helen  need  not  take  her  out  so  much,  if  she  did 
not  like.  Do  you  think  she  is  quite  right  to  do  so  ? "  asked 
Emmeline,  very  thoughtfully. 

"  We  must  never  pronounce  judgment  on  other  people's 
actions,  rny  little  girl.  I  think  it  better  not  to  interrupt  your 
present  quiet  and  I  hope  happy  life,  and  therefore  I  do  not 
take  you  or  Caroline  to  London ;  but  Mr.  Grahame  is  obliged 
to  be  there  for  several  months,  and  Lady  Helen  very  naturally 
would  not  like  to  be  separated  either  from  him  or  her  children 
And  then  she  has  such  a  large  family,  and  Annie  so  many 
young  relations,  that  you  see  Lady  Helen  could  not  keep  hei 
children  quite  as  free  from  temptation  as  I  do  mine,  and  we 
should  be  more  sorry  for  Annie  than  blame  her  individually, 
however  we  may  not  like  her  faults.  Do  you  understand  me, 
my  dear  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  mamma,  and  I  am-  so  glad  I  took  courage  to  tell 
you  all  I  felt.  I  am  afraid  I  have  encouraged  many  unkind 
thoughts  about  her,  and  I  am  quite  sorry  now,  for  I  see  she 
cannot  help  them  as  much  as  I  thought  she  could.  I  do  not 
think  I  could  ever  make  her  my  friend,  but  I  will  try  very 
much  not  to  dislike  and  avoid  her." 

"  And  that  is  all  that  is  required  of  you,  my  love.  When  I 
tell  you  that  our  Father  in  Heaven  commands  us  to  love  one 
another,  and  to  avoid  all  nnkindness  in  thought  and  deed,  I  do 
nit  mean  that  He  desires  us  to  love  all  alike,  because  He  knew 
it  would  be  neither  for  our  happiness  nor  good  that  it  should  bo 
%o,  but  only  to  prevent  the  too  great  influence  of  prejudice  and 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  87 

dislike.  We  might  think  such  feelings  can  do  no  harm,  be* 
cause  only  confined  to  our  own  minds,  but  they  would  be  sure 
gradually  to  lead  us  to  taking  pleasure  in  listening  to  their  dis- 
praise, and  joining  in  it,  and  to  seeing  and  talking  only  of  t'heir 
faults,  forgetting  that  if  we  had  been  circumstanced  exactly  as 
they  are,  we  might  have  been  just  the  same ;  and  this  is  the 
feeling  David  condemns  in  one  of  the  Psalms  we  read  this 
morning.  Are  you  tired  of  listening  to  me,  dearest,  or  shall 
we  read  it  over  again  together  ?  " 

Emmeline's  only  answer  was  to  run  eagerly  for  her  little 
Bible,  and  with  glowing  cheeks  and  sparkling  eyes  listen  to  her 
mother,  as  she  turned  to  the  fifteenth  Psalm,  and  reading  it 
through,  particularly  pointed  out  the  third  verse,  and  so  ex- 
plained it,  as  easily  and  happily  to  satisfy  her  child  as  to  the 
Divine  authority  for  all  that  she  had  said,  and  to  stamp  them 
still  more  forcibly  on  her  memory. 

"  And  now  I  do  not  mean  to  talk  to  you  any  more,  my  dar- 
ling," she  said,  kissing  the  little  earnest  face  upturned  to  hers. 
"  You  have  heard  quite  enough  to  think  about,  and  I  am  sure 
you  will  not  forget  it,  so  go  and  play  ;  Ellen  must  be  wondering 
what  has  become  of  you."  And  again  full  of  glee,  the  happy 
child  bounded  away,  exclaiming,  as  she  did  so,  "  Poor  Annie,  I 
am  glad  I  am  not  exposed  to  such  temptations,  for  I  am  sure 
I  should  not  be  able  to  resist  them  either." 

But  though  any  one  who  had  seen  her  the  next  half  hour 
might  have  fancied  that  a  serious  thought  or  sober  task  could 
not  approach  her,  neither  the  conversation  nor  the  Psalm  was 
forgotten ;  with  Herbert's  explanatory  assistance,  she  not  only 
found  the  Psalm,  but  committed  it  to  memory  ;  and  the  second 
Sunday  after  her  conversation  with  her  mother,  repeated  it  so 
correctly  and  prettily  to  her  father,  as  to  give  her  the  delight 
of  his  caressing  approbation.  Learning  correctly  by  rote  was 
always  her  greatest  trial,  for  her  vivid  fancy  and  very  versatile 
powers  occasioned  her  actual  lessons  to  be  considered  such 
drudgery,  as  to  require  a  great  effort  on  her  part  to  retain 
tLem.  The  sense,  indeed,  if  she  understood  it,  she  learned 
quickly  enough  ;  but  she  preferred  her  own  language  to  any 
one's  else,  and  Mrs.  Hamilton  had  some  difficulty  in  making 
her  understand  that  in  time  of  study  she  required  correctness, 
and  not  fancy ;  and  that  the  attention  which  was  necessary  to 
conq-ier  the  words  as  well  as  the  sense  of  the  lesson,  was  much 
more  important  and  valuable,  however  disagreeable  it  might 
eeem,  than  the  facility  of  changing  the  language  to  something 
prettier  than  the  original. 


38  HOME   INFLUENCE. 


,  therefore,  as  in  the  piesent  case,  she  voluntarily  un 
dertook,  and  conquered  really  a  difficult  task  for  a  little  lively 
girl,  her  parents  had  no  scruple  in  giving  the  only  reward  she 
cared  for  —  their  approbation.  It  was  in  the  bestowal  of  praise 
Mrs.  Hamilton  was  compelled  to  be  almost  painfully  guarded. 
She  found  that  the  least  expression  of  unusual  approbation 
caused  Caroline  to  relax  in  her  efforts,  thinking  she  had  done 
quite  enough,  and  perniciously  increasing  her  already  too  ex- 
alted ideas  of  herself.  While  to  Emmeline  it  was  the  most 
powerful  incentive  to  a  continuance  in  improvement,  and  deter- 
mined conquest  of  her  faults.  There  was  constantly  a  dread 
on  the  mother's  heart,  that  Caroline  would  one  day  accuse  her 
of  partiality,  from  the  different  measure  of  her  approbation 
which  she  was  compelled  to  bestow  ;  and  yet  painful  as  it  was 
to  persevere  under  such  an  impression,  the  future  welfare  of 
both  was  too  precious  to  be  risked  for  the  gratification  of  the 
present. 

She  was  watching  with  delight  Emmeline's  unrestrained  en- 
joyment of  her  father's  caresses  and  lively  conversation,  in 
which  Percy  as  usual  joined  —  for  Tiny,  as  he  chose  to  call 
her,  was  his  especial  pet  and  plaything  —  when  she  was  startled 
by  a  low  and  evidently  suppressed  sob  near  her  ;  Ellen  was 
bending  over  a  book  of  Bible-stories  which  Herbert  had  lent 
her,  and  her  long  ringlets  completely  concealed  her  face  ;  Miss 
Harcourt  and  Caroline  both  looked  up  surprised,  but  a  rapid 
sign  from  Mrs.  Hamilton  prevented  their  making  any  remark. 
Herbert  fixed  his  eyes  pityingly  on  his  little  cousin,  as  if  wish- 
ing but  not  liking  to  address  her.  Edward  was  the  only  one  of 
the  party  who  moved.  He  was  busily  engaged  in  examining  a 
large  Noah's  ark,  and  speculating  as  to  its  resemblance  to  a 
ship,  and  its  powers  of  floating  ;  but  after  a  few  minutes'  ap- 
parent thought  he  left  it,  and  sitting  down  on  Ellen's  chair,  put 
his  arm  round  her,  and  begged  her  to  find  a  picture  of  Noah's 
ark,  and  see  if  it  were  at  all  like  the  toy.  Cheered  by  his  af- 
fection, she  conquered  with  a  strong  effort  the  choking  in  her 
throat,  and  turned  to  the  page,  and  tried  to  sympathize  in  his 
wonder  if  -it  really  were  like  the  vessel  in  which  Noah  was 
saved,  and  where  he  could  have  put  all  the  animals.  Mrs.  Ha- 
milton joined  them,  and  without  taking  more  notice  of  Ellen's 
very  pale  cheeks  and  heavy  eyes,  than  gently  to  put  back  the 
thick  tresses  that  seemed  to  annoy  her  by  their  weight,  gave 
them  go  much  interesting  information  on  the  subject  ar.d  so 
delighted  Edward  with  allowing  him  to  drag  down  several 
bocks  from  the  library  to  find  out  all  they  said  about  it,  that 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  89 

im  hours  slipped  away  quite  unconsciously ;  and  Ellen's  very 
painful  feeling  had  been  so  soothed,  that  she  could  smile,  and 
join  Emraeline  in  making  all  the  animals  walk  in  grand  pro- 
cession to  their  temporary  dwelling. 

But  Mrs.  Hamilton  did  not  forget  the  child's  involuntary 
evidence  of  suffering,  and  vainly  tried  to  imagine  what  at  that 
moment  could  have  caused  it.  Herbert  seemed  to  think  about 
it,  too,  for  the  next  day  she  heard  him  ask  Edward  — 

"  If  he  knew  why  his  sister  always  looked  so  sad  ?  —  if  he 
thought  it  was  because  she  was  not  yet  reconciled  to  Oak- 
wood  ?  " 

"  It  is  not  that,"  was  Edward's  reply :  "  she  has  always 
looked  and  seemed  sad,  as  long  as  I  can  remember  her.  One 
reason  may  be,  she  was  always  ill  in  India,  and  papa  was  often 
telling  me  how  very  much  she  suffered,  and  how  patiently  she 
bore  it ;  and  then,  too,  she  knew  I  was  poor  mamma's  favorite, 
(his  voice  trembled,)  and  that  used  to  make  her  very  unhappy  ; 
but  I  do  not  know  why  she  is  so  very  sad  now,  unless  she  is  ill 
again,  and  that  no  one  can  tell,  for  she  never  will  complain." 

"  Was  your  sister  such  a  constant  sufferer  then  ?  "  inquired 
his  aunt.  "  Come  here,  and  tell  me  all  you  can  about  her, 
Edward.  I  wish  I  could  know  more  about  both  your  lives  in 
India." 

Edward,  with  eager  willingness,  communicated  all  he  knew, 
though,  from  his  being  so  constantly  with  his  mother,  and  Ellen 
so  much  left  with  her  father  and  herself,  that  all  was  little 
enough  ;  adding,  however,  that  after  her  very  dangerous  illness, 
when  she  was  eight  years  old  he  perfectly  well  remembered 
hearing  some  celebrated  physician  say  to  his  father  she  would 
probably  feel  the  effects  of  it  all  her  life. 

"  It  was  a  very  long  time  before  mamma  permitted  me  to 
see  her,"  added  Edward,  "  and  when  I  did,  I  remember  being 
almost  frightened,  she  was  so  altered,  so  pale,  and  thin,  and 
weak  ;  and  then  she  was  very  ill  after  poor  papa's  death ;  but 
since  then  she  has  never  complained,  and  never  kept  her  bed ; 
but  I  know  she  is  often  in  pain,  for  when  I  have  touched  her 
forehead  sometimes,  it  has  burnt  my  hand  like  fire." 

This  childish  explanation  certainly  told  Mrs.  Hamilton  more 
than  shs  had  known  before ;  but  that  Ellen  had  witnessed  the 
fearful  scene  of  her  father's  death  was  still  concealed.  Ed- 
ward, as  he  grew  older,  though  he  did  not  know  why,  seemed 
to  shrink  from  the  subject,  particularly  that  he  had  been  ut  a 
ball  the  same  awful  night. 

A  few  clays   afterward,  as  Mrs.  Hamilton  was  crossing  the 


BO  HOME    INFLUENCE. 

large  hall  on  hei  way  to  the  school-room  —  for  so,  spite  of  Per- 
cy's determination  that  it  should  receive  the  more  learned  and 
refined  appellation  of  studio,  it  was  still  called  —  she  overheard 
Caroline's  voice,  excl  aiming  in  angry  impatience  — 

;'  Indeed,  I  shall  not,  I  have  enough  to  do  with  my  own  les- 
sons, without  attending  to  other  people's.  It  is  your  idleness,. 
Ellen,  not  the  difficulty  of  your  lesson ;  for  I  am  sure  it  is  easy 
enough." 

"  For  shame,  Caroline ! "  was  Emmeline's  indignant  reply. 
"  She  is  not  idle,  and  I  am  sure  her  lesson  is  not  so  easy ;  I 
wish  I  could  explain  it  properly." 

"  You  know  Miss  Harcourt  herself  said  she  was  careless  or 
idle  to-day,  and  she  must  know.  I  am  not  going  to  lose  my 
hour  of  recreation  to  help  those  who  won't  help  themselves." 

"  How  can  you  be  so  ill-natured,  so  unkind  ! "  began  Emme- 
line  ;  but  Ellen's  beseeching  voice  interrupted  her  — 

"  Do  not  quarrel  with  your  sister  on  my  account,  dearest 
Emmeline  ;  I  dare  say  I  am  very  stupid,  but  my  head  does  feel 
confused  to-day  ;  pray  do  not  mind  me,  dear  Emmy ;  go  with 
Caroline,  aunt  Emmeline  will  not  like  your  remaining  in." 

Caroline  had  already  quitted  the  room,  and  in  her  haste  ran 
against  her  mother,  who  she  instantly  perceived  had  heard  all 
she  said.  With  a  deep  blush,  she  turned  as  to  reenter  the 
school-room,  but  Mrs.  Hamilton  stopped  her  — 

"  No,"  she  said,  gravely,  "  if  you  are  only  to  act  kindly  for 
fear  of  my  reproof,  it  will  do  no  good  either  to  yourself  or 
Ellen.  I  could  scarcely  have  believed  it  possible  you  should 
so  have  spoken,  had  I  not  heard  it.  Go  and  amuse  yourself 
as  you  intended ;  I  rather  think  had  you  given  up  a  little  of 
your  time  to  help  your  cousin,  you  would  have  experienced 
more  real  pleasure  than  you  will  now  feel  all  day." 

"Dear  mamma,  will  you  help  Ellen?"  asked  Emmeline,  very 
timidly,  for  though  at  Ellen's  reiterated  entreaty  she  had  left 
her,  she  felt  it  almost  disrespect  to  run  across  the  hall  while  her 
mother  was  speaking;  and  the  thought  suddenly  crossed  her 
that,  as  she  was  quite  sure  Ellen  was  not  idle  though  Miss 
Harcourt  thought  she  was,  her  mother,  by  assisting  her,  might 
save  her  from  increased  displeasure. 

"Yes,  dearest,  if  necessary;  I  have  heard  enough  to  satisfy 
me  that  ycu  would  if  you  could;  and  so  I  will,  for  your  sake." 
And  Emmeline  ran  away,  quite  happy,  to  try  all  she  could  to 
soothe  Caroline,  whose  self-reproach  had  as  usual  terminated  in 
a  fit  of  ill-tiimper  and  anger  against  Ellen,  instead  of  against 
herself. 


HOME    INFLUENCE.  i'l 

Mrs.  Hamilton  entered  the  school-room,  and  stood  by  Ellen 
?o  quietly  that  the  child  did  not  perceive  her.  Her  attention 
was  completely  absorbed  in  her  book ;  but  after  a  few  min  He? 
she  suddenly  pushed  it  from  her,  and  exclaiming  almost  pas 
sionately : 

"I  cannci  learn  it,  try  all  I  can!  and  Miss  Harcourt  wili  b*> 
eo  Very,  very  angry" — and  she  gave  way,  for  the  first  time 
eince  her  arrival  at  Oakwood,  to  a  violent  burst  of  tears. 

"  What  is  this  very,  very  difficult  lesson,  my  little  Ellen ! " 
inquired  her  aunt,  kindly  taking  one  hand  from  her  face.  "  TelJ 
me,  and  we  shall  be  able  to  learn  it  together,  perhaps." 

"  Oh,  no,  no !  it  is  because  I  am  so  very  stupid ;  Miss  Har 
'Court  has  explained  it  to  me  twice,  and  I  know,  I  know,  I  ought 
to  understand  it  —  but  —  " 

"  Well,  then,  never  mind  it  to-day.  We  can  all  learn  much 
better  some  days  than  others,  you  know;  and  I  dare  say  to- 
morrow you  will  be  able  to  conquer  it." 

"  But  Miss  Harcourt  is  already  displeased,  and  she  will  be 
still  more  so,  if  I  leave  it  without  her  permission,"  replied  the 
sobbing  girl,  longing,  but  not  daring,  to  throw  her  arms  round 
her  aunt's  neck,  and  lean  her  aching  head  against  her  bosom. 

"  Not  if  I  beg  a  reprieve,"  replied  her  aunt,  smiling ;  "  but 
you  must  not  let  it  make  you  so  very  unhappy,  Ellen.  I  am 
afraid  it  is  not  only  your  lesson,  but  that  you  are  ill,  or  unhappy 
about  something  else.  Tell  me,  dearest,  what  can  I  do  to  make 
you  more  happy,  more  at  home  ?  " 

"  Oh,  nothing,  nothing !"  replied  Ellen,  struggling  with  her 
tears.  "  Indeed  I  am  happier  than  I  ever  thought  I  could  be , 
I  must  be  very  ungrateful  to  make  you  think  I  am  unhappy, 
when  you  are  so  good  and  so  kind.  My  head  ached  to-day, 
and  that  always  makes  me  feel  a  wish  to  cry ;  but  indeed  I  am 
not  unhappy,  and  never  when  you  kiss  me  and  call  me  your 
Ellen,  whatever  I  may  feel  when  you  are  not  by ; "  and,  as  if 
frightened  at  her  own  confession,  she  hid  her  face  in  her  aunt's 
dress. 

Mrs.  Hamilton  lifted  her  into  her  lap,  and  kissed  her  without 
speaking. 

"  You  must  learn  to  love  me  more  and  more  then,  my  Ellen," 
the  said,  after  a  pause,  "and  when  you  are  feeling  ill  or  in 
pain,  you  must  not  be  afraid  to  tell  me,  or  I  shall  think  that  you 
only  fancy  you  love  me." 

"  Oh,  no,  it  is  not  fancy ;  I  never  loved  any  one  as  I  do  you 
—  except  papa  —  my  own  darling,  good  papa!"  the  word  was 
almost  choked  with  sobs.  "He  use!  to  fondle  rne  and  praise 


£2  HOME   INFLUENCE. 

me,  and  cull  me  his  darling  Ellen,  as  uncle  Hamilton  did  Em- 
meLir  e  last  Sunday ;  and  when  I  was  ill,  so  ill  they  said  I 
ehoulJ  die,  he  never  left  me,  except  when  his  military  duties 
called  him  away ;  and  he  used  to  nurse  me,  and  try  to  amuse 
me,  that  I  might  forget  pain  and  weakness.  Oh,  I  shall  never, 
never  forget  that  dreadful  night ! "  and  she  closed  her  eyes  and 
shuddered,  as  the  horrid  scene  of  blood  and  death  flashed  be- 
fore her. 

"  What  dreadful  night,  my  poor  child  ?  "  inquired  Mrs.  Hamil- 
ton, soothingly,  after  doubting  whether  or  not  it  would  be  better 
for  Ellen  to  pursue  such  an  evidently  painful  theme,  and  no  lon- 
ger requiring  an  explanation  of  her  emotion  the  previous  Sabbath. 

"  The  night  poor  papa  was  killed ;  —  oh,  there  were  so  many 
horrid  forms  on  the  grass,  the  natives  and  poor  papa's  own 
men,  and  they  looked  so  ghastly  in  the  moonlight,  and  the  grass 
was  covered  with  blood  and  limbs  and  heads  that  had  been  shot 
off;  and  there  were  such  cries  and  groans  of  pain  —  I  see  it,  I 
hear  it  all  again  so  often  before  I  go  to  sleep,  and  when  my 
head  feels  as  it  does  to-day,  and  fancy  I  hear  poor  papa's  last 
words,  and  feel  his  kiss  as  he  lay  bleeding,  bleeding  slowly  to 
death,  and  his  voice  was  so  strange,  and  his  lips  so  cold ! " 

"But  how  came  you  in  such  a  dreadful  scene,  my  poor  El- 
len? who  could  have  permitted  such  a  little  child  to  be  there?" 

"Because  I  wished  it  so  very  much;  I  knew  he  would  die 
before  they  could  bring  him  to  me,  and  I  did  so  want  to  feel  his 
kiss  and  hear  his  voice  once  more.  Oh,  aunt  Emmeline !  shall 
I  never  see  him  again?  I  know  he  cannot  come  to  me;  but 
shall  I,  oh,  shall  I  ever  be  good  enough  to  go  to  him  ?  "  And 
she  looked  up  in  her  aunt's  face  with  such  a  countenance  of  be- 
seeching entreaty,  that  Mrs.  Hamilton's  eyes  filled  with  tears, 
and  it  was  a  full  minute  before  she  could  speak ;  but  when  she 
did,  Ellen  felt  more  relieved  and  comforted,  than  on  the  subject 
of  her  father's  death  she  had  ever  felt  before.  From  her  mo- 
ther not  being  able  to  bear  the  subject  even  partially  alluded 
to,  and  from  having  no  one  to  whom  she  could  speak  of  it,  it  had 
taken  a  still  stronger  hold  of  her  imagination ;  and  whenever 
she  was  unusually  weak,  and  her  head  aching  and  confused,  it 
became  still  more  vivid.  The  very  visible  sympathy  and  in- 
terest of  her  aunt,  and  the  gentle  words  in  which  she  tried  to 
turn  the  child's  thoughts  from  that  scene  of  horror  to  the  happi- 
ness of  her  father  in  Heaven,  and  an  assurance  that,  if  she  tried 
to  do  her  duty,  and  to  love  and  serve  God,  and  trust  in  Hi? 
mercy  to  render  her  efforts  acceptable,  she  would  rejoin  hi'n, 
=eemed  to  remove  the  mass  of  (angled  thought  within  her  youn# 


HOME    INFLUENCE  93 

mind.  Her  head,  indeed,  still  ached  very  painfully,  and  her 
eyes  s<  emed  as  if  they  would  close,  notwithstanding  all  her  ef- 
forts to  keep  them  open;  but  when  she  awoke  from  a  iDng 
quiet  sleep,  on  the  sofa  in  Mrs.  Hamilton's  dressing-room,  wtere 
her  aunt  had  laid  her,  and  found  that  kind  friend  still  watcLing 
over  her,  the  little  heart  and  temples  had  ceased  to  throb  so 
quickly,  and  she  felt  better  and  happier. 

Mr.  Maitland,  the  medical  friend  of  the  family,  confirmed  the 
opinion  which  Edward  had  said  their  physician  in  India  had 
given  of  his  sister's  state  of  health.  He  did  not,  he  said,  con- 
sider her  liable  to  serious  illness,  or  of  a  constitution  that  would 
not  endure ;  but  that  he  feared  it  would  be  some  years  before 
she  knew  the  blessing  of  really  good  health,  and  be  constantly 
subject  to  that  lassitude,  severe  headache,  and  the  depression  of 
the  whole  system  thence  proceeding,  which  must  prevent  the 
liveliness  and  quickness  of  acquirement  natural  to  most  child- 
ren. He  thought  the  evil  had  been  very  greatly  increased  by 
want  of  sufficient  care  in  early  years,  and  the  unwholesome  cli- 
mate in  which  she  had  so  long  lived,  that  he  wondered  her  mo 
ther  had  not  been  advised  to  send  her  over  to  England,  adding, 
with  a  smile,  he  was  quite  sure  Mrs.  Hamilton  would  not  have 
refused  the  charge,  anxious  as  it  might  have  been.  And  ear- 
nestly, not  only  on  account  of  the  child's  physical  but  mental 
health,  did  Mrs.  Hamilton  wish  that  such  had  been  the  case, 
and  that  she  had  had  the  care  of  her  niece  from  earliest  in- 
fancy ;  and  how  much  more  would  she  have  wished  this,  had 
she  known  that  Mrs.  Fortescue  had  really  been  advised  to  do 
with  Ellen  as  Mr.  Maitland  had  said ;  but  that  believing  it 
merely  an  idle  fancy,  and  persisting,  too,  in  her  own  headstrong 
idea,  that  it  was  ill-temper,  not  illness,  which  rendered  Ellen  so 
disagreeable,  she  would  not  stoop  so  to  conquer  her  unfortunate 
pride  as  to  ask  such  a  favor  of  her  relatives,  and  to  whom  eke 
could  she  appeal  ?  Colonel  Fortescue  had  none  but  distant 
cousins.  She  did  satisfy  a  qualm  of  conscience  by  once  sug- 
gesting to  her  husband  —  as  her  own  idea,  however,  not  as  that 
of  an  experienced  physician  —  that  as  he  fancied  Ellen  was 
always  ill,  she  might  be  better  in  England  ;  but,  as  she  expect- 
ed, not  only  his  intense  love  for  his  little  girl  rose  up  against 
the  idea  of  separation,  but  his  pride  revolted  from  sending  her 
to  claim  the  pity  of  relatives  who  had  so  completely  cast  off  her 
parents  ;  yet  had  he  been  told  it  was  absolutely  necessary  for 
her  health  and  so  greatly  for  her  happiness,  he  would  not  have 
hesitated  to  sacrifice  every  thought  of  self.  But  Eleanor, 
satisfied  that  she  had  done  her  duty,  and  delighted  that  in  ono 


31  HOME   INFLUENCE. 

respect  be  was  quite  as  proud  as  she  was,  never  again  referred 
to  the  subject,  and  the  physician  who  had  thus  advised,  from 
his  constant  removals,  he  never  chanced  to  meet. 

Great,  indeed,  was  the  amount  of  childish  suffering  which 
this  selfish  decision,  on  the  part  of  her  mother,  occasioned  Ellen. 
We  do  not  mean  the  pain  of  constant  languor  itself,  though  that 
in  its  full  amount  our  happy  healthful  young  readers  cannot 
have  the  least  idea  of :  they,  perhaps,  think  it  almost  a  pleasant 
change,  the  care,  and  petting,  and  presents  so  often  lavished  on 
a  brief  decided  illness  ;  but  that  is  a  very  different  thing  to  that 
kind  of  suffering  which  only  so  affects  them  as  to  be  dull  and 
heavy,  they  do  not  know  why,  and  to  make  it  such  a  very  diffi- 
cult task  to  learn  the  lessons  others  find  so  easy ;  and  such  a 
pain  sometimes  to  move,  that  they  are  thought  slow  and  un 
willing,  and  perhaps  even  idle,  when  they  would  gladly  run, 
and  help,  and  work  as  others  ;  and  so  weak  sometimes,  that 
tears  start  at  the  first  harsh  or  unkind  word,  and  they  are  thought 
cross,  when  they  do  not  in  the  least  feel  so  ;  and  this,  not  for  a 
few  weeks,  but,  with  few  exceptions,  the  trial  of  months  and 
even  years. 

And  this  was  Ellen's  —  which  not  even  the  tenderest  and 
most  unfailing  care  of  her  aunt  could  entirely  guard  her  from. 
It  is  a  most  difficult  thing  for  those  who  are  strong  and  healthy 
themselves  to  understand  and  always  bear  with  physical  suffer- 
ing in  others.  Miss  Harcourt,  though  in  general  free  from  any 
thing  like  prejudice,  and  ardently  desirous  to  follow  up  her  own 
and  Mrs.  Hamilton's  ideas  of  right  and  wrong,  could  not  so 
govern  her  affections  as  to  feel  the  same  toward  Ellen  as  she 
did  toward  Edward  and  the  children  she  had  lived  with  and 
taught  so  long.  Her  task  with  Ellen  required  more  patience 
and  forbearance  and  care  than  with  either  of  the  others,  and 
sometimes  she  could  not  help  believing  and  acting  toward  her 
as  if  it  were  wilful  idleness  and  carelessness,  not  the  languor 
of  disease. 

With  the  recollection  and  evidence  of  Herbert,  who  had  been 
delicate  from  his  birth,  and  who  was  yet  of  such  a  remarkably 
gifted  mind,  and  so  bright  in  aspect,  so  sweet  in  temper,  thai 
illness  seemed  to  have  spiritualized  instead  of  deadened  every 
faculty,  she  could  not  understand,  as  Mrs.  Hamilton  did,  the 
force  of  circumstances  in  producing  from  nearly  the  same  cause 
two  such  different  effects,  nor  how  it  was  that  complete  neglect 
had  engendered  more  evils  than  indiscreet  indulgence  ;  but  that 
it  appeared  to  have  done  so,  was  unhappily  only  too  evident 
not  only  to  Miss  Harcourt  but  to  Mrs.  Hamilton.  It  seeiric-J 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  95 

almost  surprising,  and  certainly  a  proof  of  a  remarkably  good 
disposition,  that  Edward  appeared  so  free  from  great  faults,  and 
of  such  a  warm,  generous,  frank,  and  seemingly  unselfish  nature, 
so  open  to  conviction  and  to  all  good  impressions,  that,  except 
occasional  fits  of  violent  passion,  there  really  was,  as  far  as  his 
aunt  and  uncle  could  perceive,  nothing  to  complain  of.  They 
did  not  know  that  he  stood  hi  such  awe  of  Mr.  Hamilton,  from 
his  mother's  lessons  of  his  exceeding  sternness,  that  he  exer- 
cised the  greatest  control  over  himself;  and  he  was  so  exces- 
sively fond  of  Mr.  Howard,  and  his  days  glided  by  in  such  va- 
ried and  delightful  employment,  that  there  was  no  temptation 
to  do  wrong,  except  certain  acts  of  trifling  disobedience,  of 
more  consequence  from  the  self-will  they  betrayed  than  the  acts 
themselves,  but  which  might  have  been  sources  of  anxiety  to 
his  aunt,  and  lessened  her  confidence  in  him  had  she  known 
them ;  but  she  did  not,  for  Ellen  not  only  constantly  concealed, 
but  she  was  the  sufferer  for  him,  and  so  brought  reproof  and 
suspicion  on  herself,  which,  could  the  truth  have  been  known, 
might  have  been  averted.  But  truth  of  act  as  well  as  word 
had  never  been  impressed  on  Edward ;  and,  therefore,  though 
he  was  constitutionally  too  brave  to  utter  a  falsehood,  too  ho- 
norable to  shield  himself  at  the  expense  of  another,  if  he 
knew  that  other  suffered,  he  had  been  too  long  taught  to  believe 
that  Ellen  was  his  inferior,  and  must  always  give  up  to  him,  to 
imagine  that  he  was  ever  acting  deceitfully  or  unmanfully  in 
permitting  her  to  conceal  his  acts  of  disobedience. 

There  was  so  much  to  love  and  admire  in  Edward,  that 
neither  Mr.  nor  Mrs.  Hamilton  imagined  the  real  weakness  of 
his  character  —  that  those  lovable  qualities  all  sprung  from  na- 
tural impulse,  unsustained  by  any  thing  like  principle.  The 
quickness  and  apparent  fervor  with  which  he  received  the  reli- 
gious impressions  they  and  Mr.  Howard  sought  so  earnestly  tc 
instil,  in  the  short  time  that  was  allowed  them  before  he  en- 
tered the  navy,  they  augured  so  hopefully  from,  that  not  only 
his  preceptor  and  uncle,  but  his  ever-anxious  aunt,  looked  for- 
ward to  his  career  with  scarcely  a  doubt  as  to  its  probity  and 
honor. 

Ellen  caused  her  infinitely  more  anxiety.  There  was  a  dis- 
regard to  truth,  a  want  of  openness  and  candor,  which,  though 
Mrs.  Hamilton  believed  the  effects  of  neglect  and  extreme 
timidity,  both  her  husband  and  Miss  Harcourt  feared  were  na- 
tural. Much,  indeed,  sprung  from  the  poor  child's  mistaken 
idea  of  the  nature  and  solemnity  of  the  promise  she  had  made 
her  mother,  and  her  constant  watchfulness  and  determination 


96  UOME   INFLUENCE. 

£0  shield  Edward.  For  the  disregard  to  truth,  her  mother 
had,  indeed,  alone  been  answerable.  Ellen's  naturally  very 
timid  character  required  the  inculcation  of  a  high,  firm  principle, 
to  enable  her  so  to  conquer  herself  as  to  speak  the  truth,  even 
if  she  suffered  from  it.  It  was  only,  indeed,  In  extreme  casea 
of  fear  —  and  never  to  her  father  that  she  had  ever  spoken 
falsely ;  but  to  Mrs.  Hamilton's  high  principles,  which  by  ex- 
treme diligence  and  care  she  had  so  successfully  imparted  to 
her  own  children,  even  concealment  was  often  an  acted  untruth, 
and  of  this  fault  and  equivocation  Ellen  was  but  too  often 
guilty,  exciting  Miss  Harcourt's  and  Caroline's  prejudices  yet 
more  against  her.  The  latter,  with  all  her  faults,  never  swerved 
from  the  rigid  truth,  and  had  a  strong  contempt  and  dislike 
toward  all  those  who  did  —  except  her  friend  Annie,  who,  as 
she  always  took  care  to  speak  the  truth  to  her,  she  did  not  sus- 
pect of  being  less  careful  than  herself.  Emmeline,  who  had 
had  some  difficulty  in  restraining  her  love  of  exaggeration,  and 
also  in  so  conquering  her  own  timidity  and  fear  as  always  to 
speak  the  truth,  only  pitied  Ellen,  but  did  not  love  her  the  less. 
Of  course,  it  was  not  till  some  months  had  passed  that  these 
lights  and  shadows  of  character  in  the  orphans,  and  in  the 
opinions  they  called  forth  in  those  around  them,  could  be  dis- 
covered ;  but  notwithstanding  she  stood  almost  alone  in  her 
opinion,  notwithstanding  there  was  very  little  outward  evidence 
that  she  was  correct,  Mrs.  Hamilton  believed  there  was  a  great 
deal  more  in  her  niece  than  was  discernible.  She  seemed  to 
possess  a  strength,  almost  an  intensity,  of  feeling  and  warmth 
of  affection,  which,  if  properly  guided,  would  effectually  aid  in 
removing  the  childish  errors  engendered  by  neglect ;  and  it  was 
this  belief  which  not  only  enabled  her  to  bear  calmly  the  anx- 
iety and  care,  and  often  pain,  which  those  faults  and  their 
compelled  correction  occasioned,  but  actually  to  love  her  niece, 
if  possible,  still  more  than  Edward,  and  very  nearly  with  the 
same  amount  of  quiet  but  intense  affection  which  she  felt  for 
her  own  children. 


CHAPTER  V. 


&   YOUNG    GENTLEMAN    IN   A   PASSION. A    WALK.  —  A 

SCENE    OF    DISTRESS. 

ONE  very  fine  morning  in  May,  Mrs.  Hamilton  invited  Ed- 
ward to  join  her  in  a  walk,  intending  also  to  call  at  Moorlands 
and  Greville  Manor  on  their  way.  The  lads  were  released  for 
a  few  days  from  their  attendance  on  Mr.  Howard,  that  gentle- 
man having  been  summoned  on  some  clerical  business  to  Exeter. 
Percy  was  to  accompany  his  father  on  an  equestrian  excursion  ; 
Herbert  had  been  commissioned  by  Emmeline  some  days  be- 
fore to  take  some  books  to  Mary  Greville,  and  had  looked  for- 
ward himself  to  spending  a  morning  with  her.  Edward,  de- 
lighted at  being  selected  as  his  aunt's  companion,  prepared  with 
haste  and  glee  for  his  excursion.  Robert  was,  however,  un- 
fortunately not  at  hand  to  give  him  a  clean  pair  of  shoes  (he 
had  already  spoiled  two  pair  that  morning  by  going  into  the 
stream  which  ran  through  the  park  to  sail  a  newly-rigged  fri- 
gate,) and  angry  at  the  delay,  fearing  that  his  aunt  would  not 
wait  for  him,  he  worked  himself  into  such  a  violent  passion, 
that  when  Robert  did  appear  he  gave  vent  to  more  abusive 
language  than  he  had  ever  yet  ventured  to  use,  concluding  by 
hurling  both  his  discarded  shoes  at  the  domestic,  who  only 
escaped  a  severe  blow  by  starting  aside,  and  permitting  them 
to  go  through  the  window. 

"  Robert,  leave  the  room :  I  desire  that  you  will  not  again 
give  your  assistance  to  Master  Fortescue  till  he  knows  how 
to  ask  it,"  was  Mrs.  Hamilton's  most  unexpected  interference, 
and  Edward  so  startled  at  her  voice  and  look,  that  his  passion 
was  suddenly  calmed. 

"  Finish  your  toilet,  and  when  you  have  found  your  shoer 
and  put  them  away,  you  may  join  me  in  the  breakfast- room, 
Edward.  I  only  wait  your  pleasure." 

And  never  did  Edward  leave  her  presence  more  gladly. 
Shame  had  suddenly  conquered  anger ;  and  though  his  chest 
(Still  heaved  and  his  cheeks  were  still  flushed,  he  did  not  utter 
another  word  till  nearly  a  quarter  of  a  mile  on  their  walk. 


98  HOME   INFLUENCE 

Twice  1-e  had  looked  up  in  his  aunt's  face  as  if  about  to  speak, 
but  the  expression  was  so  very  grave,  that  he  felt  strangely 
afraid  to  proceed.  At  length  he  exclaimed  — 

"  You  are  displeased  with  me,  dear  aunt ;  but  indeed  I  could 
not  help  feeling  angry." 

"  I  am  still  more  sorry  than  displeased,  Edward ;  I  had 
hoped  you  were  learning  more  control,  and  to  know  your  duty 
to  a  domestic  better.  Your  uncle  —  " 

"  Oh,  pray  do  not  tell  him  !  "  implored  Edward,  "  and  I  will 
a.sk  Robert's  pardon  the  moment  I  go  home." 

"  I  certainly  shall  not  complain  of  you  to  him,  Edward,  if  my 
arguments  can  convince  you  of  your  error ;  but  if  you  are  only 
to  ask  Robert's  pardon  for  fear  of  your  uncle,  I  would  rather 
you  should  not  do  so.  Tell  me  the  truth  ;  if  you  were  quite 
sure  your  uncle  would  know  nothing  about  it,  would  you  still 
ask  Robert's  pardon  ?  " 

Edward  unhesitatingly  answered  "  No  !  " 

"  And  why  not  ?  " 

"  Because  I  think  he  ought  to  ask  mine  for  keeping  me  wail- 
ing as  he  did,  and  for  being  insolent  first  to  me." 

"  He  did  not  keep  you  waiting  above  five  minutes,  and  that 
was  my  fault,  not  his,  as  I  was  employing  him ;  and  as  for  inso- 
lence, can  you  tell  me  what  he  said  ?  "  Edward  hesitated. 

"  I  do  not  remember  the  exact  words,  but  I  know  he  called 
me  impatient,  and  if  I  were,  he  had  no  right  to  tell  me  so." 

"  Nor  did  he.  I  heard  all  that  passed,  and  I  could  not  help 
thinking  how  very  far  superior  was  Robert,  a  poor  country 
youth,  to  the  young  gentleman  who  abused  him." 

The  color  rose  to  Edward's  temples,  but  he  set  his  teeth  and 
clenched  his  hand,  to  prevent  any  farther  display  of  anger ;  and 
his  aunt,  after  attentively  observing  him,  continued  — 

"He  said  that  his  young  master  Percy  never  required  im- 
possibilities, and  though  often  impatient,  never  abused  him. 
You  heard  the  word,  and  feeling  you  had  been  so,  believed  he 
applied  it  to  yourself." 

"But  in  what  can  he  be  my  superior?"  asked  Edward,  in  a 
low  voice,  as  if  still  afraid  his  passion  would  regain  ascendency. 

"  I  will  answer  your  question  by  another,  Edward.  Suppose 
any  one  had  used  abusive  terms  toward  you,  and  cor.temptu- 
jusly  desired  you  to  get  out  of  your  sight,  how  would  you  have 
answered  ?  " 

"  I  would  have  struck  him  to  the  earth,"  replied  Edward,  pas- 
sionately, and  quite  forgetting  his  wished  for  control. 
equal  nor  superior  should  dare  speak  so  to  me  again.' 


HOME   INFLUENCE. 

And  what  prevented  Robert  acting  in  the  same  manner?" 
Do  you  think  he  has  no  feeling?  —  that  he  is  incapable  of  such 
emotions  as  pain  or  anger?" 

Edward  stood  for  a  minute  quite  still  and  silent. 

"  I  did  not  think  any  thing  about  it,"  he  said,  at  length ;  "  but 
I  certainly  supposed  I  had  a  right  to  say  what  I  pleased  to  one 
so  far  beneath  me." 

"And  in  what  is  Robert  so  far  beneath  you  ?  " 

"  He  is  a  servant,  and  I  am  a  gentleman  in  birth,  rank  • —  " 

"  Stop,  Edward !  did  you  make  yourself  a  gentleman  ?  Is  it 
a  ly  credit  to  you,  individually,  to  be  higher  in  the  world,  and 
receive  a  better  education  than  Robert  ?  " 

Edward  was  again  silent,  and  his  aunt  continued  to  talk  to 
him  so  kindly  yet  so  earnestly,  that  at  length  he  exclaimed  — 

"I  feel  I  have  indeed  been  wrong,  dear  aunt;  but  what  can 
I  do  to  prove  to  Robert  I  am  really  sorry  for  having  treated 
him  so  ill  ?  " 

"Are  you  really  sorry,  Edward,  or  do  you  only  say  this  for 
fear  of  your  uncle's  displeasure  ?  " 

"  Indeed,  I  had  quite  forgotten  him,"  replied  Edward,  ear- 
nestly ;  "  I  deserve  his  anger,  and  would  willingly  expose  my- 
self to  it,  if  it  would  redeem  my  fault." 

"I  would  rather  see  you  endeavor  earnestly  to  restrain  your 
passions  my  dear  boy,  than  inflict  any  such  pain  upon  you.  It 
will  be  a  great  pleasure  to  me  if  you  can  really  so  conquer  your- 
self as  to  apologize  to  Robert ;  and  I  think  the  pain  of  so  doing 
will  enable  you  more  easily  to  remember  all  we  have  been  say- 
ing, than  if  you  weakly  shrink  from  it.  The  life  you  have  cho- 
sen makes  me  even  more  anxious  that  you  should  become  less 
passionate  —  than  were  you  to  remain  longer  with  me ;  I  fear 
you  will  so  often  suffer  seriously  from  it." 

"I  very  often  make  resolutions  never  to  be  in  a  passion 
again,"  returned  Edward,  sorrowfully ;  "  but  whenever  any  thing 
provokes  me,  something  seems  to  come  in  my  throat,  and  I  am 
compelled  to  give  way." 

"  You  will  not  be  able  to  conquer  your  fault,  my  dear  Ed- 
ward, without  great  perseverance ;  but  remember,  the  more 
difficult  the  task,  the  greater  the  reward ;  and  that  you  can 
control  anger  I  have,  even  during  our  walk,  had  a  proof." 

Edward  looked  up  surprised. 

"Did  you  not  feel  very  angry  when  I  said  Robert  was  ycui 
superior  ?  " 

"Yes,"  replied  Edward,  blushing  deeply. 

"And  yet  you  successfully  checked  your  rising  passion,  for 


100  HOME    INFLUENCE. 

fear  of  offending  me.  I  cannot  be  always  near  you;  but,  my 
dear  boy,  you  must  endeavor  to  remember  that  lesson  I  have 
tried  to  teach  you  so  often  —  that  you  are  never  alone.  You 
cannot  even  thick  an  angry  thought,  much  less  speak  an  abu- 
sive word  and  commit  the  most  trifling  act  of  passion,  without 
offending  God.  If  you  would  but  ask  for  His  help,  and  recol- 
lect that  to  offend  Him  is  far  more  terrible  than  to  incur  the 
displeasure  of  either  your  uncle  or  myself,  I  think  you  would 
find  your  task  much  easier,  than  if  you  attempted  it,  trusting  in 
your  own  strength  alone,  and  only  for  fear  of  man." 

Edward  did  not  make  any  reply,  but  his  countenance  express- 
ed such  earnest  thought  and  softened  feeling,  that  Mrs.  Hamil- 
ton determined  on  not  interrupting  it  by  calling  at  Moorlands 
as  she  had  intended,  and  so  turned  in  the  direction  of  Greville 
Manor.  They  walked  on  for  some  little  time  in  silence,  gradu- 
ally ascending  one  of  those  steep  and  narrow  but  green  and 
flowery  lanes  peculiar  to  Devonshire ;  and  on  reaching  the  sum- 
mit of  the  hill,  and  pausing  a  moment  by  the  little  gate  that 
opened  on  a  rich  meadow,  through  which  their  path  lay,  an  ex- 
clamation of  "  How  beautiful ! "  burst  from  Edward. 

Fields  of  alternate  red  and  green  sloped  down  to  the  river's 
edge,  the  green  bearing  the  glistening  color  peculiar  to  May, 
the  red  from  the  full  rich  soil  betraying  that  the  plough  had  but 
lately  been  there,  and  both  contrasting  beautifully  with  the 
limpid  waters,  whose  deep  azure  seemed  to  mock  the  very 
heavens.  The  Dart  from  that  point  seemed  no  longer  a  mean- 
dering river :  it  was  so  encompassed  by  thick  woods  and  fertile 
hills,  that  it  resembled  a  lake,  to  which  there  was  neither  outlet 
nor  inlet,  save  from  the  land.  The  trees  all  presented  that  ex- 
quisite variety  of  green  peculiar  to  May,  and  so  lofty  was  the 
slope  on  which  they  grew,  that  some  seemed  to  touch  the  very 
sky,  while  others  bent  gracefully  over  the  water,  which  their 
thick  branches  nearly  touched.  The  hills  themselves  presented 
a  complete  mosaic  of  red  and  green ;  the  fields  divided  by  high 
hedges,  from  which  the  oak  and  elm  and  beech  and  ash  would 
start  up,  of  growth  so  superb  as  to  have  the  semblance  of  a  cul- 
tivated park,  and  not  of  natural  woodland. 

Greville  Manor,  an  Elizabethan  building,  stood  on  their 
right,  surrounded  by  its  ancient  woods,  which,  though  lovely 
still,  Mr.  Greville's  excesses  had  already  shorn  of  some  of  their 
finest  timber.  Some  parts  of  the  river  were  in  complete  shade 
from  the  overhanging  branches,  while  beyond  them  would 
stretch  the  bright  blue  of  heaven :  in  other  parts,  a  stray  pun- 
beam  would  dur*.  through  an  opening  in  the  thick  brandies. 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  K'l 

•ind  shine  like  a  bright  spot  in  the  surrounding  darkness  ;  and 
farther  on,  the  cloudless  sun  so  flung  down  his  full  refulgence, 
that  the  moving  waters  flashed  and  sparkled  like  burning 
gems. 

"  Is  it  not  beautiful,  dear  aunt  ?  Sometimes  I  feel  as  if  1 
were  not  half  so  passionate  in  the  open  air  as  in  the  house ; 
can  you  tell  me  why  ?  " 

"Not  exactly,  Edward,"  she  replied,  smiling;  "but  I  am 
very  pleased  to  hear  you  say  so,  and  to  find  that  you  can  ad- 
mire such  a  lovely  scene  as  this.  To  my  feelings,  the  presence 
of  a  loving  God  is  so  impressed  upon  his  works  —  we  can  so 
distinctly  trace  goodness,  and  love,  and  power,  in  the  gift  of 
such  a  beautiful  world,  that  I  feel  still  more  how  wrong  it  is  to 
indulge  in  vexation,  or  care,  or  anxiety,  when  in  the  midst  of  a 
beautiful  country,  than  when  at  home ;  and  perhaps  it  is  some- 
thing of  the  same  feeling  working  in  you,  though  you  do  not 
know  how  to  define  it." 

"  But  you  can  never  do  or  feel  any  thing  wrong,  dear  aunt," 
said  Edward,  looking  with  surprised  inquiry  in  her  face. 

"  Indeed,  my  dear  boy,  I  know  that  I  very  often  have  wrong 
thoughts  and  feelings ;  and  that  only  my  Father  in  Heaven's 
infinite  mercy  enables  me  to  overcome  them.  It  would  be 
very  sad,  if  I  were  as  faulty,  and  as  easily  led  into  error,  as 
you  and  your  cousins  may  be,  when  I  have  had  so  many  more 
years  to  think  and  try  to  improve  in ;  but  just  in  the  same 
way  as  you  have  duties  to  perform  and  feelings  to  overcome, 
30  have  I ;  and  if  I  fail  in  the  endeavor  to  lead  you  all  in 
the  better  and  happier  path  —  or  feel  too  much  anxiety,  or 
shrink  from  giving  myself  pain,  when  compelled  to  correct  a 
fault  in  either  of  you,  I  am  just  as  likely  to  incur  the  dis- 
pleasure of  our  Father  in  Heaven,  as  you  are  when  you  are 
passionate  or  angry ;  and  perhaps  still  more  so,  for  the  more 
capable  we  are  of  knowing  and  doing  our  duty,  the  more  wrong 
we  are  when  we  fail  in  it,  even  in  thought." 

There  was  so  much  in  this  reply  to  surprise  Edward,  it 
seemed  so  to  fill  his  mind  with  new  ideas,  that  he  continued 
his  walk  in  absolute  silence.  That  his  aunt  could  ever  fail,  a.< 
she  seemed  to  say  she  had  and  did,  and  even  still  at  times 
found  it  difficult  to  do  right,  was  very  strange ;  but  yet  some- 
how it  seemed  to  comfort  him,  and  to  inspire  him  with  a  sort 
of  courage  to  emulate  her,  and  conquer  his  difficulties.  He 
had  fancied  that  she  could  not  possibly  understand  how  dilFicult 
it  was  for  him  always  to  be  good ;  but  when  he  found  thst  she 
could  do  so  even  from  her  own  experience,  hei  words  apy  eared 
6 


102  HOME   INFLUENCE. 

eiiicnved  with  double  force,  and  he  loved  her.  and  looked  up  to 
her  nore  than  ever. 

Ten  minutes  more  brought  them  to  the  Gothic  lodge  of  the 
Manor,  and  instead  of  seeking  the  front  entrance,  Mrs.  Hamil- 
ton led  the  way  to  the  flower-garden,  on  which  Mrs.  Greville's 
usual  morning-room  opened  by  a  glass  door. 

"  Herbert  was  to  tell  Mary  of  our  intended  visit ;  I  wonder 
she  is  not  watching  for  me  as  usual,"  observed  Mrs.  Hamilton, 
somewhat  anxiously ;  and  her  anxiety  increased,  as  on  nearing 
the  half  open  door  she  saw  poor  Mary,  her  head  leaning 
against  Herbert,  deluged  in  tears.  Mrs.  Greville  was  not 
there,  though  the  books,  work,  and  maps  upon  the  table  told 
of  their  morning's  employment  having  been  the  same  as  usual. 
Herbert  was  earnestly  endeavoring  to  speak  comfort,  but  evi- 
dently without  success  ;  and  Mary  was  in  general  so  controlled, 
that  her  present  grief  betrayed  some  very  much  heavier  trial 
than  usual. 

"  Is  your  mother  ill,  my  dear  Mary  ?  What  can  have  hap- 
pened to  agitate  you  so  painfully  ? "  she  inquired,  as  at  the 
first  sound  of  her  voice  the  poor  girl  sprung  toward  her,  and 
tried  to  say  how  very  glad  she  was  that  she  had  come  just 
then ;  but  the  words  were  inarticulate  from  sobs ;  and  Mrs. 
Hamilton,  desiring  Edward  to  amuse  himself  in  the  garden, 
made  her  sit  down  by  her,  and  told  her  not  to  attempt  to  check 
her  tears,  but  to  let  them  have  free  vent  a  few  minutes,  and 
then  to  try  and  tell  her  what  had  occurred.  It  was  a  very 
sad  tale  for  a  child  to  tell,  and  as  Mrs.  Hamilton's  previous 
knowledge  enabled  her  to  gather  more  from  it  than  Mary's 
broken  narrative  permitted,  we  will  give  it  in  our  own  words. 

Mr.  Greville  had  been  at  home  for  a  month,  a  quarter  of 
which  time  the  good  humor  which  some  unusually  successful 
bets  had  excited,  lasted ;  but  no  longer.  His  amusement  then 
consisted,  as  usual,  in  trying  every  method  to  annoy  and  irritate 
his  wife,  and  in  endeavoring  to  make  his  son  exactly  like  him- 
Belf.  Young  as  the  boy  was  —  scarcely  twelve  —  he  took  him 
to  scenes  of  riot  and  feasting,  which  the  society  of  some  boon 
companions,  unhappily  near  neighbors,  permitted  ;  and  though 
Alfred's  cheek  became  pale,  his  eye  haggard,  and  his  temper 
uneven,  his  initiation  was  fraught  with  such  a  new  species  of 
excitement  and  pleasure,  that  it  rejoiced  and  encouraged  his 
lather  in  the  same  measure  as  it  agonized  his  mother,  and,  for 
her  sake,  poor  Mary. 

That  morning  Alfred  had  declared  his  intention  of  visiting  a 
large  fair,  which,  with  some  races  of  but  ill  rezute,  frcm  tlu1 


HOME    INFLUENCE.  103 

baJ  cou.pany  they  collected,  was  to  be  held  at  a  neighboring 
town,  and  told  his  father  to  prepare  for  a  large  demand  on  his 
cash,  as  he  meant  to  try  his  hand  at  all  the  varieties  of  gaming 
which  the  scene  presented.  Mr.  Greville  laughed  heartily  at 
what  he  called  the  boy's  right  spirit,  and  promised  him  all  he 
required ;  but  there  was  a  quivering  on  her  mother's  lip,  a 
deadly  paleness  on  her  cheek,  that  spoke  volumes  of  suffering 
io  the  heart  of  the  observant  Mary,  who  sat  trembling  beside 
her.  Still  Mrs.  Greville  did  not  speak  till  her  husband  left  the 
room  ;  but  then,  as  Alfred  was  about  to  follow  him,  she  caught 
hold  of  his  hand,  and  implored  him,  with  such  a  tone  and  look 
of  agony,  only  to  listen  to  her,  for  her  sake  to  give  up  his 
intended  pleasure  ;  that,  almost  frightened  by  an  emotion  which 
in  his  gentle  mother  he  had  scarcely  ever  seen,  and  suddenly 
remembering  that  he  had  lately  been  indeed  most  unkind  and 
neglectful  to  her,  he  threw  his  arms  round  her  neck,  and  pro- 
mised with  tears  that  if  it  gave  her  so  much  pain,  he  would  not 
go  ;  and  so  sincere  was  his  feeling  at  the  moment  that,  had  there 
been  no  tempter  near,  he  would,  in  all  probability,  have  kept 
his  word.  But  the  moment  Mr.  Greville  heard  from  his  son  his 
change  of  intention  and  its  cause,  he  so  laughed  at  his  ridicu- 
lous folly,  so  sneered  at  his  want  of  spirit  in  preferring  his 
mother's  whims  to  his  father's  pleasures,  that,  as  could  not  fail 
to  be  the  case,  every  better  feeling  fled.  This  ought  to  have 
been  enough  ;  but  it  was  too  good  an  opportunity  to  vent  his 
ill-temper  on  his  wife,  to  be  neglected.  He  sought  her,  where 
she  was  superintending  Mary's  lessons,  and  for  nearly  an  hour 
poured  upon  her  the  most  fearful  abuse  and  cutting  taunts, 
ending  by  declaring  that  all  the  good  she  had  done  by  her 
saindy  eloquence  was  to  banish  her  son  from  her  presence, 
whenever  he  left  home,  as  in  future  Alfred  should  be  his  com- 
panion ;  and  that  he  should  begin  that  very  day.  Mrs.  Gre- 
ville neither  moved  nor  spoke  in  reply  ;  and  the  expression  of 
her  countenance  was  so  sternly  calm,  that  poor  Mary  felt  as  if 
she  dared  not  give  way  to  the  emotion  with  which  her  heart 
was  bursting. 

Mr.  Greville  left  the  room,  and  they  heard  him  peremptorily 
desire  the  housekeeper  to  put  up  some  of  Master  Alfred's 
clothes.  In  a  perfectly  composed  voice  Mrs.  Greville  desired 
Mary  to  proceed  with  the  exercise  she  was  writing,  and  emu- 
lating her  firmness,  she  tried  to  obey.  Fortunately  her  task 
was  writing,  for  to  have  spoken  or  read  aloud  would,  she  ft  It, 
have  been  impossible.  So  full  half  an  hour  passed,  and  then 
hasty  footsteps  were  heard  in  the  hall,  and  the  joyous  voice  of 
Alfred  exclaiming  — 


104  HOME   INFLUENCE. 

u  Let  me  wish  mamma  and  Mary  good-by,  papa." 

a  I  have  not  another  moment  to  spare,"  was  the  reply.  •'*  STou 
hate  kept  me  long  enough,  and  must  he  quicker  next  time; 
come  along,  my  boy." 

The  rapid  tread  of  horses'  hoofs  speedily  followed  the  sullen 
clang  with  which  the  hall-door  closed,  and  as  rapidly  faded 
away  in  the  distance.  With  an  irresistible  impulse,  Mary 
raised  her  eyes  to  her  mother's  face ;  a  bright  red  flush  had 
risen  to  her  temples,  but  her  lips  were  perfectly  colorless,  and 
her  hand  tightly  pressed  her  heart;  but  this  only  lasted  a 
minute,  for  the  next  she  had  fallen  quite  senseless  on  the  floor. 
Her  poor  child  hung  over  her  almost  paralyzed  with  terror,  and 
so  long  did  the  faint  last,  that  she  was  conveyed  to  her  own 
room,  partially  undressed,  and  laid  on  her  bed  before  she  at  all 
recovered.  A  brief  while  she  had  clasped  Mary  to  her  bosom, 
as  if  in  her  was  indeed  her  only  earthly  comfort,  and  then  in  a 
faint  voice  desired  to  be  left  quite  alone.  Mary  had  flung  her- 
self on  the  neck  of  the  sympathizing  Herbert  Hamilton  (who 
had  arrived  just  in  the  confusion  attendant  on  Mrs.  Greville's 
unusual  illness,)  and  wept  there  in  all  the  uncontrolled  violence 
of  early  sorrow. 

Mrs.  Hamilton  remained  some  time  with  her  afflicted  friend, 
for  so  truly  could  she  sympathize  with  her,  that  her  society 
brought  with  it  the  only  solace  Mrs.  Greville  was  capable  of 
realizing  from  human  companionship. 

"  It  is  not  for  myself  I  murmur,"  were  the  only  words  that 
in  that  painful  interview  might  have  even  seemed  like  com- 
plaint ;  "  but  for  my  poor  child.  How  is  her  fragile  frame  and 
gentle  spirit  to  endure  through  trials  such  as  these  ;  oh,  Em- 
meline,  to  lose  both,  and  through  their  father !  " 

And  difficult  indeed  did  it  seem  to  realize  the  cause  of  such 
a  terrible  dispensation ;  but  happily  for  Mrs.  Greville,  she 
could  still  look  up  in  love  and  trust,  even  when  below  all  of  com- 
fort as  of  joy  seemed  departed ;  and  in  a  few  days  she  was 
enabled  to  resume  her  usual  avocations,  and,  by  an  assumption 
of  cheerfulness  and  constant  employment,  to  restore  some  de 
gree  of  peace  and  happiness  to  her  child. 

Neither  Herbert  nor  Edward  seemed  inclined  to  converse  on 
their  walk  home,  and  Mrs.  Hamilton  was  so  engrossed  in 
thought  for  Mrs.  Greville,  that  she  did  not  feel  disposed  to 
speak  either.  Herbert  was  contrasting  his  father  with  Mary  s, 
and  with  such  a  vivid  sense  of  his  own  happier  lot,  that  he  fell 
almost  oppressed  with  the  thought,  lie  was  not,  he  m  ver  could 
be,  grateful  enough ;  for,  what  had  he  done  to  be  so  mucli 


HOME  INFLUENCE.  105 

more  blt-o&ed  ?  And  when  Mr.  Hamilton,  wio,  wondering  ai 
their  long  absence,  had  come  out  to  meet  them,  put  his  arm 
affectionately  round  him,  and  asked  him  what  could  possibly 
make  him  look  so  pale  and  pensive,  the  boy's  excited  feelings 
completely  overpowered  him.  He  buried  his  face  on  his 
father's  shoulder,  and  burst  into  tears  ;  and  then  leaving  his 
mother  to  explain  it,  for  he  felt  quite  sure  she  could,  without 
his  telling  her,  darted  away  and  never  stopped  till  he  found 
himself  in  the  sanctuary  of  his  own  room ;  and  there  he  re- 
mained, trying  to  calm  himself  by  earnest  thought  and  almost 
unconscious  prayer,  till  the  dinner-bell  summoned  him  to  re- 
join his  family,  which  he  did,  quiet  and  gentle,  but  cheerful,  as 
usual. 

Edward  did  not  forget  the  thoughts  of  the  morning,  but  the 
struggles  so  to  subdue  his  pride  as  to  apologize  to  Robert, 
seemed  very  much  more  difficult  when  he  was  no  longer  hear- 
ing his  aunt's  earnest  words ;  but  he  did  conquer  himself,  and 
the  fond  approving  look,  with  which  he  was  rewarded,  gave 
him  such  a  glowing  feeling  of  pleasure  as  almost  to  lessen  the 
pain  of  his  humiliation. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

CECIL  GRAHAME'S  PHILOSOPHY.  —  AN  ERROR  AND  ITS 
CONSEQUENCES. A  MYSTERY  AND  A  CONFIDENCE. 

A  FEW  days  after  the  events  of  the  last  chapter,  Mrs.  Ha- 
milton, accompanied  ..by  Percy,  called  at  Moorlands.  Cecil 
Grahame  was  playing  in  the  garden,  and  Percy  remained  with 
him,  his  good-nature  often  making  him  a  companion,  though 
there  was  nearly  six  years'  difference  in  their  age. 

"  Are  you  going  to  T —  on  Thursday,  Percy  ?  There  will 
be  such  fine  doings.  Races  and  the  county  fair,  arid  wild 
beasts  and  shows,  and  every  thing  delightful ;  of  course,  you 
will  go  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  think  it  at  all  likely,"  replied  young  Hamilton. 

"  No  !  "  repeated  Cecil,  much  astonished.  "  Why,  I  waa 
only  saying  the  other  day  how  much  I  should  like  to  be  as  old 
as  you  are ;  it  must  be  so  delightful  to  be  one's  own  master." 

"  I  do  not  consider  myself  my  own  master  yet,  Cecil.     Sor.e- 


•  06  HOME    INFLUENCE. 

times  I  wish  1  wt  re  ;  at  others,  I  think  I  <un  much  better  as  1 
am.  And,  as  foi  this  fair,  Mr.  Howard  will  be  back  to-mor- 
row, so  there  is  no  chance  of  my  going." 

"  Why  is  there  no  such  thing  as  the  possibility  of  a  holiday, 
Percy  ? "  replied  Cecil,  with  great  glee ;  "  or  perhaps,"  he 
added,  laughing,  "  your  papa  is  like  mine,  and  does  not  allow 
such  freaks  ;  thinks  it  wrong  to  go  to  such  places,  acting  against 
morality,  and  such  out-of-the-way  ideas/' 

"  Are  these  Mr.  Grahame's  opinions  ? "  inquired  Percy, 
almost  sternly. 

"  Why  ye  —  yes  —  why  do  you  look  at  me  so,  Percy  ?  I 
am  sure  I  said  no  harm  ;  I  only  repeated  what  I  have  heard 
mamma  say  continually." 

"  That  is  not  the  very  least  excuse  for  your  disrespect  to 
your  father  ;  and  if  he  think  thus,  I  Avonder  you  should  talk  of 
going  to  the  races  ;  you  cannot  have  his  permission." 

"  Oh,  but  mamma  has  promised  if  I  am  a  good  boy  till  then, 
and  she  can  manage  it,  I  shall  go ;  for  she  cannot  see  any 
harm  in  it.  And  as  for  waiting  for  papa's  permission  —  if  I 
did,  I  should  never  go  anywhere.  He  is  so  unkind,  that  I  am 
always  afraid  of  speaking  or  even  playing,  when  he  is  in  the 
room." 

"You  are  a  silly  boy,  Cecil,"  replied  young  Hamilton; 
"  Believe  me,  you  do  not  know  your  best  friend.  I  should  be 
very  sorry  to  feel  thus  toward  my  father." 

"  Oh !  but  yours  and  mine  are  very  different  sort  of  people. 
Your  papa  never  punishes  you,  or  refuses  you  his  permission, 
when  you  wish  particularly  to  do  any  thing,  or  go  anywhere." 

"  If  papa  thinks  my  wishes  foolish,  or  liable  to  lead  me  into 
error,  he  docs  refuse  me  without  scruple,  Cecil.  And  though 
I  am  old  enough  now,  I  hope,  so  to  conduct  myself  as  to  avoid 
actual  punishment :  when  I  was  as  young  as  you  are,  papa  very 
frequently  punished  me,  both  for  my  violence  and  pride." 

"  But  then  he  was  kind  to  you  afterward.  Now  I  should 
not  so  much  mind  papa's  severity  when  I  am  naughty,  it  he 
would  only  be  kind,  or  take  some  notice  of  me  when  I  am  good. 
Hut  has  Mr.  Hamilton  told  you  not  to  go  to  the  races  ?  " 

"  Not  exactly :  he  has  merely  said  he  thinks  it  a  day  most 
unprofitably  wasted;  and  that  the  gambling  and  excesses, 
always  the  attendant  of  races,  are  not  lit  scenes  for  young  per- 
sons. Were  I  to  take  my  horse  and  go,  he  would  not,  perhaps, 
be  actually  displeased,  as  I  am  old  enough  now,  he  says,  in 
some  things,  to  judge  for  myself;  but  I  should  be  acting  against 
ais  principles,  which,  just  now,  I  am  not  inclined  to  do,  for  1 
un  euro  to  suffer  from  it  afterward.'' 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  107 

'•  Well,  all  I  can  say,  is,  that  when  I  am  as  old  as  you  arc, 
i'l'rey,  I  shall  certainly  consider  myself  under  no  one.  I  hope 
I  shall  be  at  Eton  by  that  time,  and  then  we  shall  see  if  Cecil 
Grahame  has  not  some  spirit  in  him.  I  would  not  be  tied 
down  to  Oakwood,  and  to  Mr.  Howard's  humdrum  lessons,  as 
you  are,  Percy,  for  worlds." 

"  Take  care  that  Cecil  Grahame's  spirit  does  not  effervesce 
e.o  much,  as  to  make  him,  when  at  Eton,  wish  himself  back  at 
Moorlands,"  replied  Percy,  laughing  heartily  at  his  young  com- 
panion's grotesque  attempts  at  self-consequence,  by  placing  his 
cap  dandily  on  his  head,  flourishing  his  cane,  and  trying  to 
make  himself  look  taller.  Cecil  took  his  laugh,  however,  in 
good  part,  and  they  continued  in  amicable  conversation  till 
Mrs.  Hamilton  summoned  Percy  to  attend  her  home. 

Our  readers  have,  perhaps,  discovered  that  Percy,  this  day 
was  not  quite  as  lively  as  usual.  If  they  have  not,  his  mother 
did ;  for,  strange  to  say,  he  walked  by  her  side  silent  and  dis- 
pirited. His  thoughtlessness  very  often  led  him  into  error  and 
its  disagreeable  consequences  ;  and,  fearing  this  had  again  been 
die  case,  she  playfully  inquired  the  cause  of  his  most  unusual 
abstraction.  He  colored,  but  evaded  the  question,  and  suc- 
cessfully roused  himself  to  talk.  His  mother  was  not  anxious, 
for  she  had  such  perfect  confidence  in  him,  that  she  knew  if  he 
had  committed  error,  he  would  redeem  it,  and  that  his  own 
good  feelings  and  high  principles  would  prevent  its  recurrence. 

It  so  happened,  however,  that  young  Hamilton,  by  a  series 
of  rather  imprudent  actions,  had  plunged  himself  into  such  a 
very  unusual  and  disagreeable  position,  as  not  very  well  to 
know  how  to  extricate  himself  from  it,  without  a  full  confes- 
sion to  his  father ;  which,  daringly  brave  as  in  general  he  was, 
he  felt  almost  as  if  he  really  had  not  the  courage  to  make. 
One  of  Mr.  Hamilton's  most  imperative  commands  was,  that 
his  sons  should  never  incur  a  debt,  and,  to  prevent  the  tempta- 
tion, their  monthly  allowance  was  an  ample  one,  and  fully  per- 
mitted any  recreative  indulgences  they  might  desire. 

Now  Percy  was  rather  inclined  to  extravagance,  from  thought- 
lessness and  a  profuse  generosity,  which  had  often  caused  him 
euch  annoyance  as  to  make  him  resolve  again  and  again  to  fol- 
low his  father's  advice,  and  keep  some  accounts  of  his  expend! 
ture,  as  a  slight  check  on  himself.  The  admiration  for  beauty 
in  the  fine  arts,  which  his  mother  had  so  sedulously  cultivated, 
had  had  only  one  bad  effect ;  and  that  was  that  his  passion  for 
prints  and  paintings,  and  illustrated  and  richly-bound  volumes, 
sometimes  carried  him  beyond  bounds,  and  very  often  occasioned 


U>8  HOME  INFLUENCE. 

regret,  thU  he  had  not  examined  the  l?tter-press  of  such  works, 
as  well  as  their  engravings  and  bindings.  He  had  given  orders 
to  Mr.  Harris,  a  large  fancy  stationer,  librarian,  and  publisher 
of  T — ,  to  procure  for  him  a  set  of  engravings,  whose  very 
interesting  subjects  and  beautiful  workmanship  Mr.  Grahame 
had  so  vividly  described  to  him,  that  young  Hamilton  felt  to 
do  without  them  till  his  father  or  he  himself  should  visit  the 
metropolis,  and  so  judge  of  their  worth  themselves,  was  quite 
mpossible.  The  order  was  given  without  the.  least  regard  to 
price.  They  arrived  at  the  end  of  the  month,  and  the  young 
gentleman,  to  his  extreme  astonishment,  discovered  that  his 
month's  allowance  had  been  so  expended,  as  not  to  leave  him 
a  luvlf-quarter  of  the  necessary  sum.  What  to  do  lie  did  not 
very  well  know.  Mr.  Harris  had  had  great  dilliculty  in  pro- 
curing the  prints,  and  of  course  he  was  bound  in  honor  to  take 
th^m.  If  he  waited  till  he  could  pay  for  them,  he  must  sacri- 
fice the  whole  of  one  month's  allowance,  and  then  how  could 
he  keep  free  from  debt  till  the  next?  As  for  applying  to  his 
father,  he  shrank  from  it  with  actual  pain.  How  could  he  ask 
his  ever  kind  and  indulgent  parent  to  discharge  a  debt  incurred 
by  such  a  thoughtless  act  of  unnecessary  extravagance  ?  Mr. 
Harris  made  very  light  of  it,  declaring  that,  if  Mr.  Percy  did 
not  pay  him  for  a  twelvemonth,  it  was  of  no  consequence  ;  he 
would  trust  him  for  any  sum  or  any  time  he  liked.  But  to 
make  no  attempt  to  liquidate  his  debt  was  as  impossible  as  to 
speak  to  his  father.  So,  after  a  violent  struggle  with  his  pride, 
which  did  not  at  all  like  the  idea  of  betraying  his  inability  to 
pay  the  whole,  or  of  asking  a  favor  of  Mr.  Harris,  he  agreed 
to  pay  his  debt  by  instalments,  and  so  in  two  or  three  months, 
at  the  very  latest,  discharge  the  whole. 

One  week  afterward  he  received  his  month's  allowance,  and, 
riding  over  directly  to  the  town,  relieved  his  conscience  of  half 
its  load.  To  have  only  half  his  usual  sum,  however,  for  monthly 
expenditure,  caused  him  so  many  checks  and  annoyances  as 
to  make  him  hate  the  very  sight  of  the  prints  whose  possession 
he  had  so  coveted ;  but  he  looked  forward  to  the  next  month  to 
be  free  at  least  of  Mr.  Harris  —  the  idea  of  disobedience  to  his 
"ather  in  incurring  a  debt  at  all,  causing  him  more  annoyance 
llian  all  the  rest. 

Again  the  first  day  of  the  month  came  round,  and  pu'.ting 
the  full  sum  required  in  his  purse,  he  set  off,  but  on  his  way 
encountered  such  a  scene  of  distress,  that  every  thought  fled 
from  his  mind,  except  how  to  relieve  it.  He  accompanied  the 
miserable  half-famished  man  to  a  hut  in  which  lay  a  seemingly 


HOME   INFLUENCE  109 

Jvi  ig  womaa  with  a  new-born  babe,  aid  two  or  three  small 
ball-starved,  half-naked  children  —  listened  to  their  story,  which 
was  really  one  of  truth  and  misfortune,  aot  of  whining  deceit, 
poured  the  whole  contents  of  his  purse  into  their  laps,  and  rode 
off  to  T — ,  to  find,  not  Mr.  Harris  but  Mr.  Maitlaud,  and  im- 
plore him  to  see  what  his  skill  would  do  for  the  poor  womau. 
lie  encountered  that  gentleman  at  the  outskirts  of  the  town, 
told  his  story,  and  was  so  delighted  at  Mr.  Maitland's  willing 
promise  to  go  directly,  and  also  to  report  the  case  to  those  who 
would  relieve  it,  that  he  never  thought  of  any  thing  else  till  he 
found  himself  directly  opposite  Mr.  Harris's  shop,  and  his 
bounding  heart  sunk  suddenly  down,  as  impelled  by  a  weight 
of  lead.  The  conviction  flashed  upon  him  that  he  had  been 
giving  away  money  which  was  actually  not  his  own ;  and  the 
deed  which  had  been  productive  of  so  much  internal  happiness, 
now  seemed  to  reproach  and  condemn  him.  He  rode  back 
without  even  seeking  Mr.  Harris,  for  what  could  he  tell  him  as 
the  reason  of  his  non-payment  ?  Certainly  not  his  having 
given  it  away. 

The  first  of  May,  which  was  his  birthday,  he  had  been  long 
engaged  to  spend  with  some  young  men  and  lads  who  were  to 
have  a  grand  game  of  cricket,  a  jovial  dinner,  an  adjournment 
to  some  evening  amusement,  and,  to  conclude  the  day,  a  gay 
supper,  with  glees  and  songs.  Mr.  Hamilton  had  rather  wished 
Percy  to  leave  the  party  after  dinner,  and  had  told  him  so, 
merely,  however,  as  a  preference,  not  a  command,  but  giving 
him  pei-mission  to  use  his  own  discretion.  Percy  knew  there 
would  be  several  expenses  attendant  on  the  day,  but  still  he 
had  promised  so  long  to  be  one  of  the  party,  which  all  had  de- 
clared would  be  nothing  without  him,  and  his  own  inclinations 
so  urged  him  to  join  it,  that  it  seemed  to  him  utterly  impossible 
to  draw  back,  especially  as  he  could  give  no  excuse  for  doing 
so.  How  could  he  say  that  he  could  not  afford  it  ?  when  he 
was,  or  ought  to  have  been,  nearly  the  richest  of  the  party 
and  what  would  his  father  think  ? 

He  went.  The  day  was  thoroughly  delightful,  and  so  excit- 
ing, that  though  he  had  started  from  home  with  the  intention 
of  leaving  them  after  dinner,  he  could  not  resist  the  pleadings 
of  his  companions  and  his  own  wishes,  and  remained.  At  sup- 
per alone  excitement  and  revelry  seemed  to  have  gained  the 
upper  hand,  and  Percy,  though  steady  in  entirely  abstaining 
from  all  excess,  was  not  quite  so  guarded  as  usual.  A  clergy- 
man had  lately  appeared  at  T — ,  whose  appearance,  manners, 
and  opinions  had  given  more  than  usual  food  for  gossip,  and 


110  HOME   INFLUEN  3K 

much  incharitableness.  His  cloth  indeed  ought  to  have  pro- 
tected him,  \  ut  it  rather  increased  the  satire,  sarcasm,  and 
laughtjr  which  he  excited.  He  was  brought  forward  by  the 
thoughtless  youths  of  Percy's  party,  quizzed  unmercifully, 
made  the  object  of  some  clever  caricatures  and  satires,  and 
though  young  Hamilton  at  first  kept  aloof,  he  could  not  resist 
the  contagion.  He  dashed  off  about  half-a-dozen  verses  of  such 
remarkably  witty  and  clever  point,  that  they  were  received 
with  roars  of  applause,  and  an  unanimous  request  for  distribu 
f  ion ;  but  this  he  positively  refused,  and  put  them  up,  with  one 
or  two  other  poems  of  more  innocent  wit,  in  which  he  was  fond 
uf  indulging,  into  h-is  pocket. 

The  day  closed,  and  the  next  morning  brought  with  it  so 
many  regrets,  and  such  a  confused  recoll«ction  of  the  very 
unusual  excitement  of  the  previous  evening,  that  he  was  glad 
to  dismiss  the  subject  from  his  mind,  and  threw  his  satire,  as 
he  believed,  into  the  fire.  In  fact,  he  was  so  absorbed  with 
the  disagreeable  conviction  that  he  could  only  pay  Mr.  Harris 
a  third  of  his  remaining  debt,  trifling  as  in  reality  it  was,  that 
he  thought  of  nothing  else.  Now  Mr.  Harris  was  the  editor 
and  publisher  of  rather  a  clever  weekly  paper,  and  Percy 
happened  to  be  in  his  parlor  waiting  to  speak  to  him,  while  he 
was  paying  a  contributor. 

"  I  wish  my  head  were  clever  enough  to  get  out  of  your 
debt  in  that  comfortable  way,"  he  said,  half  laughing,  as  the 
gentleman  left  them  together. 

"  I  wish  all  my  customers  were  as  desirous  of  paying  their 
large  debts  as  you  are  your  small  one,"  was  Mr.  Harris's 
reply.  "  But  I  have  heard  something  of  your  clever  verses, 
Mr.  Percy ;  if  you  will  let  me  see  some,  I  really  may  be  able 
to  oblige  you,  as  you  seem  so  very  anxious  to  have  nothing 
more  to  do  with  me  —  " 

"  In  tl?  e  ""ly  of  debt,  not  of  purchases,  Mr.  Harris ;  and  I 
assure  jou,  I  am  not  thinking  so  much  about  you,  as  of  my 
own  disobedience.  I  will  send  you  my  papers,  only  you  must 
give  me  your  word  not  to  publish  them  with  my  name." 

"  They  will  not  be  worth  so  much,"  replied  Mr.  Harris, 
smiling. 

''  Only  .et  me  feel  they  have  helped  to  discharge  my  debt, 
or  at  least  let  me  know  how  much  more  is  wanted  to  do  so, 
and  I  will  worship  the  muses  henceforth,"  replied  Percy,  with 
almost  his  natural  gayety,  for  he  felt  he  wrote  better  verses 
than  those  Mr.  Harris  had  been  so  liberally  paying  for ;  and 
ihe  idea  of  feeling  free  again  was  so  very  delightful,  that, 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  Ill 

receiving  Mr.  Harris's  solemn  promise  not  to  betray  his  author- 
Blip,  he  galloped  home,  more  happy  than  he  had  been  for 
some  days. 

Mr.  Harris  had  said  he  must  have  them  that  evening,  and 
Robert  was  leaving  for  the  town  as  his  young  master  entered 
the  house.  He  hastily  put  up  his  portfolio,  and  sent  it  off'. 
His  conscience  was  so  perfectly  free  from  keeping  any  thing 
that  he  afterward  had  cause  to  regret,  that  he  did  not  think  of 
looking  them  over,  and  great  was  his  delight,  when  a  few  lines 
arrived  from  Mr.  Harris,  speaking  in  the  highest  terms  of  his 
talent,  and  saying,  that  the  set  of  verses  he  had  selected,  even 
without  the  attraction  of  his  name,  would  entirely  liquidate  his 
trifling  debt. 

For  the  next  few  days  Percy  trod  on  air.  He  had  resolved 
on  waiting  till  the  poem  appeared,  and  then,  as  he  really  had 
discharged  his  debt,  take  courage  and  confess  the  whole  to  his 
father,  for  his  idea  of  truth  made  him  shrink  from  any  farther 
concealment.  He  hoped  and  believed  that  his  father  would 
regard  the  pain  and  constant  annoyance  he  had  been  enduring 
so  long,  as  sufficient  penalty  for  his  disobedience,  and  after  a 
time  give  him  back  the  confidence,  which  he  feared  must  at  his 
first  confession  be  withdrawn. 

What,  then,  Avas  his  grief,  his  vexation,  almost  his  despair, 
when  he  recognized  in  the  poem  selected,  the  verses  he  thought 
and  believed  he  had  burned  the  morning  after  they  were  writ- 
ten ;  and  which  in  print,  and  read  by  his  sober  self,  seemed 
such  a  heartless,  glaring,  cruel  insult,  not  only  on  a  fellow- 
creature,  but  a  minister  of  God,  that  he  felt  almost  over- 
whelmed. What  could  he  do?  Mr.  Plarris  was  not  to  blame, 
for  he  had  made  no  reservation  as  to  the  contents  of  his  port- 
folio. His  name,  indeed,  was  not  to  them,  and  only  having 
been  read  lightly  once  to  his  companions  of  that  hateful  sup- 
per —  for  so  he  now  felt  it  —  almost  all  of  whom  were  not 
perfectly  sober,  there  was  a  chance  of  their  never  being  recog- 
nized as  his,  and  as  their  subject  did  not  live  near  any  town 
where  the  paper  was  likely  to  circulate,  might  never  meet  his 
eye.  But  all  this  was  poor  comfort.  The  paper  was  very 
seldom  seen  at  Oakwood,  but  its  contents  were  often  spoken 
of  before  his  parents,  and  how  could  he  endure  a  reference  to 
those  verses,  how  bear  this  accumulation  of  concealment,  and, 
as  he  felt,  deceit,  and  all  sprung  from  the  one  thoughtless  act 
of  ordering  an  expensive  and  unnecessary  indulgence,  without 
sufficient  consideration  how  it  was  to  be  paid.  To  tell  his 
father,  avow  himself  the  author  of  such  a  satire,  and  on  such  a 


112  HOME   INFLUENCE. 

subject,  I'.e  could  not.  Could  he  tell  his  mother,  and  implore 
her  intercession  ?  that  seemed  like  a  want  of  confidence  in  his 
father  —  no  —  if  he  ever  could  gain  courage  to  confess  it,  it 
should  be  to  Mr.  Hamilton  alone ;  but  the  more  he  thought, 
the  more,  for  the  first  time,  his  courage  failed.  It  was  only 
the  day  before  his  visit  to  Lady  Helen's  that  he  had  discovered 
this  accumulation  of  misfortune,  and  therefore  it  was  not  much 
wonder  he  was  so  dispirited.  Two  days  afterward  Herbert, 
with  a  blushing  cheek  and  very  timid  voice,  asked  his  father  tc 
grant  him  a  great  favor.  He  was  almost  afraid  to  ask  it,  he 
said,  but  he  hoped  and  believed  his  parent  would  trust  his 
assurance  that  it  was  for  nothing  improper.  It  was  that  he 
might  be  from  home  next  day  unattended  for  several  hours. 
He  should  go  on  horseback,  but  he  was  so  accustomed  to 
ride,  and  his  horse  was  so  steady,  he  hoped  he  might  be  allowed 
to  go  alone.  Mr.  Hamilton  looked  very  much  surprised,  as 
did  all  present.  That  the  quiet,  studious  Herbert  should  wish 
to  give  up  his  favorite  pursuits,  so  soon,  too,  after  Mr.  How- 
ard's return,  and  go  on  what  appeared  such  a  mysterious  ex 
cursion,  was  something  so  extraordinary,  that  various  expres- 
sions of  surprise  broke  from  his  sisters  and  Edward.  Percy 
did  look  up,  but  made  no  observation.  Mr.  Hamilton  only 
paused,  however,  to  consult  his  wife's  face,  and  then  replied  — 

"  You  certainly  have  mystified  us,  my  dear  boy ;  but  I  freely 
grant  you  my  consent,  and  if  I  can  read  your  mother's  face 
aright,  hers  is  not  far  distant.  You  are  now  nearly  fifteen,  and 
never  once  from  your  birth  has  your  conduct  given  me  an  hour's 
pain  or  uneasiness ;  I  have  therefore  quite  sufficient  confidence 
in  your  integrity  and  steadiness  to  trust  you,  as  you  Avish,  alone. 
I  will  not  even  ask  your  intentions,  for  I  am  sure  they  will  not 
lead  you  into  wrong." 

"  Thank  you,  again  and  again,  my  own  dear  father.  I  hope  I 
shall  never  do  any  thing  to  forfeit  your  confidence,"  replied 
Herbert,  so  eagerly  that  his  cheeks  flushed  still  deeper,  and  his 
eyes  glistened ;  then  throwing  himself  on  the  stool  at  his  mo- 
ther's feet,  he  said,  pleadingly,  "Will  you,  too,  trust  nie,  dearest 
mother,  and  promise  me  not  to  be  anxious,  if  I  do  not  appear 
'ill  after  our  dinner-hour? — promise  me  this,  or  I  shall  have 
no  pleasure  in  my  expedition." 

"  Most  faithfully,"  replied  Mrs.  Hamilton,  fondly.  "I  trust 
my  Herbert  almost  as  I  would  his  father;  I  do  not  say  as  much 
Cor  this  young  man,  nor  for  that,"  she  added,  playfully  laying 
Ii3r  hand  on  Percy's  shoulder,  and  laughing  at  Edward,  who 
was  so  excessively  amused  at  the  sage  Herbert's  tir-u'ng  truant 


HOME    INFLUENCE.  113 

ili&t  he  %\as  giving  vent  to  a  variety  of  most  grotesque  antics  cf 
surf  rise.  Percy  sighed  so  heavily  that  his  mother  was  startled. 

"I  did  not  intend  to  call  such  a  very  heavy  sigh,  my  boy," 
she  said.  "In  an  emergency  I  would  trust  you  quite  as  im- 
plicitly as  Herbert ;  but  you  have  often  yourself  wished  you  had 
his  steadiness." 

"  Indeed  I  do,  mother ;  I  wish  I  were  more  like  him  in  every 
thing,"  exclaimed  Percy,  far  more  despondingly  than  usual. 

"  You  will  be  steady  all  in  time,  my  boy,  I  have  not  the  very 
slightest  fear;  and  as  I  like  variety,  even  in  my  sons,  I  would 
rather  retain  my  Percy,  with  all  his  boyish  errors,  than  have 
even  another  Herbert.  So  pray  do  not  look  so  sad,  or  I  shall 
fancy  I  have  given  you  pain,  when  I  only  spoke  in  jest." 

Percy  threw  his  arm  round  her  waist,  and  kissed  her  two  or 
three  times,  without  saying  a  word,  and  when  he  started  up  and 
said  in  his  usual  gay  tone,  that  as  he  was  not  going  to  turn  tru- 
ant the  next  day,  he  must  go  and  finish  some  work,  she  saw 
tears  in  his  eyes.  That  something  was  wrong,  she  felt  certain, 
but  still  she  trusted  in  his  candor  and  integrity,  and  did  not  ex- 
press her  fears  even  to  her  husband. 

The  morrow  came.  Percy  and  Edward  went  to  Mr.  How- 
ard's, and  Herbert  at  half-past  nine  mounted  his  quiet  horse,  and 
after  affectionately  embracing  his  mother,  and  again  promising 
care  and  steadiness,  departed.  He  had  risen  at  five  this  morn- 
ing, and  studied  till  breakfast  so  earnestly  that  a  double  portion 
was  prepared  for  the  next  day.  He  had  said,  as  he  was  start- 
ing, that,  if  he  might  remain  out  so  long,  he  should  like  to  call 
at  Greville  Manor  on  his  way  back,  take  tea  there,  and  return 
home  in  the  cool  of  the  evening. 

"  Your  next  request,  my  very  modest  son,  will  be,  I  suppose, 
to  stay  out  all  night,"  replied  Mrs.  Hamilton ;  and  that  certainly 
will  be  refused.  This  is  the  last  to  which  I  shall  consent  —  off 
with  you,  my  boy,  and  enjoy  yourself." 

But  Herbert  did  not  expect  to  enjoy  himself  half  as  much  as 
if  he  had  gone  to  Mr.  Howard's  as  usual.  He  did  not  like  to 
mention  his  real  object,  for  it  appeared  as  if  the  chances  were 
so  much  against  its  attainment,  and  if  it  were  fulfilled,  to  speak 
about  it  would  be  equally  painful,  from  its  having  been  an  act 
of  kindness. 

The  day  passed  quietly,  and  a  full  hour  before  prayers,  Her- 
bert was  seen  riding  through  the  grounds,  and  wher  he  entered 
the  usual  sitting-room,  he  looked  so  happy,  so  animated  that,  if 
his  parents  had  felt  any  anxiety  —  which  they  had  not  —  it 
would  have  vanished  at  once.  But  though  thcv  were  contented 


114  HOME    INFLUENCE. 

not  to  ask  him  any  questions,  the  young  party  Jrere  not,  and 
except  by  Percy,  (who  seemed  intently  engaged  with  a  draw 
ing,)  he  was  attacked  on  all  sides,  and,  to  add  to  their  mirth, 
Mr.  Hamiltc  .1  took  the  part  of  the  curious,  his  wife  that  of 
her  son. 

"  Ah,  mamma  may  well  take  Herbert's  part,"  exclaimed  thf 
littls  joyous  Emmeline  ;  "  for  of  course  she  knows  all  about  it ; 
Herbert  would  never  keep  it  from  her." 

"  Indeed  I  do  not ! "  and  "  Indeed  I  have  not  even  told 
mamma ! "  was  the  reply  from  both  at  the  same  moment,  but 
the  denial  was  useless  ;  and  the  prayer-bell  rung,  before  any 
satisfaction  for  the  curious  could  be  obtained,  except  that  from 
half-past  six  Herbert  had  been  very  quietly  at  Mrs.  Greville's. 

That  night,  as  Percy  sat  in  gloomy  meditation  in  his  own 
room,  before  he  retired  to  bed,  he  felt  a  hand  laid  gently  on  his 
shoulder,  and  looking  up,  beheld  his  brother  — 

"  Have  you  lost  all  interest  in  me,  Percy  ?  "  asked  Herbert, 
with  almost  melancholy  reproach.  "If  you  had  expressed  one 
word  of  inquiry  as  to  my  proceedings,  I  should  have  told  you 
all  without  the  slightest  reserve.  You  have  never  before  been 
so  little  concerned  for  me,  and  indeed  I  do  not  like  it." 

"  I  could  not  ask  your  confidence,  my  dear  Herbert,  when 
for  the  last  three  months  I  have  been  wanting  in  openness  to 
you.  Indeed,  annoyed  as  I  am  with  my  own  folly,  I  was  as 
deeply  interested  as  all  the  rest  in  your  expedition,  though  I 
guessed  its  object  could  be  nothing  but  kindness  ;  but  how 
could  I  ask  your  secret  when  I  was  so  reserved  with  you." 

"  Then  do  not  let  us  have  secrets  from  each  other  any  longer, 
dearest  Percy,"  pleaded  Herbert,  twining  his  arm  round  his 
neck,  and  looking  with  affectionate  confidence  in  his  face.  "  I 
do  not  at  all  see  why  my  secret  must  comprise  more  worth  and 
kindness  than  yours.  You  talk  of  folly,  and  I  have  fancied 
for  some  days  that  you  are  not  quite  happy ;  but  you  often 
blame  yourself  so  much  more  than  you  deserve,  that  you  do  not 
frighten  me  in  the  least.  You  said,  last  night,  you  wished  you 
were  more  like  me ;  but,  indeed,  if  you  were,  I  should  be  very 
sorry.  "What  would  become  of  me  without  your  mirth  and 
liveliness,  and  your  strength  and  ever-working  care  to  protect 
me  from  any  thing  like  pain,  either  mentally  or  bodily?  T 
should  not  like  my  own  self  for  my  brother  at  all." 

"  Nor  I  myself  for  mine,"  replied  Percy,  so  strangely  cheer- 
ed, that  he  almost  laughed  at  Herbert's  very  novel  idea,  and 
after  listening  with  earnest  interest  to  his  story,  took  cou'age 
and  told  his  own.  Herbert  in  this  instance,  however  could 


HOME    INFLUENCK.  115 

3ot  comio.t  him  as  successfully  as  usual.  The  satire  was  the 
terrible  thing;  everything  else  but  that,  even  the  disobedience 
of  the  debt,  he  thought  might  be  easily  remedied  by  an  open 
confession  to  his  father ;  but  that  unfortunate  oversight  in  not 
looking  over  his  papers  before  he  sent  them  to  Mr.  Harris,  the 
seeming  utter  impossibility  to  stop  their  circulation,  was  to  both 
these  single-hearted,  high-principled  lads  something  almost 
overwhelming.  It  did  not  in  the  least  signify  to  either  that 
Percy  might  never  be  known  as  their  authoi*.  Herbert  could 
not  tell  him  what  to  do,  except  that,  if  he  could  but  get  suffi- 
cient courage  to  tell  their  father,  even  if  he  could  not  help 
them  he  was  sure  it  would  be  a  great  weight  off  his  mind,  and 
then  he  gently  reproached  him  for  not  coming  to  him  to  help 
him  discharge  his  debt ;  it  was  surely  much  better  to  owe  a 
trifle  to  his  brother  than  to  Mr.  Harris. 

"  And,  to  gratify  my  extravagance,  deprive  you  of  some 
much  purer  and  better  pleasure  !  "  replied  Percy,  indignantly. 
"  No,  no.  Bertie  ;  never  expect  me  to  do  any  such  thing  ;  I 
would  rather  suffer  the  penalty  of  my  own  faults  fifty  times 
over !  I  wish  to  heaven  I  were  a  child  again,"  he  added  with 
almost  comic  ruefulness,  "  and  had  mamma  to  come  to  me  every 
night,  as  she  used  to  do,  before  I  went  to  sleep.  It  was  so 
easy  then  to  tell  her  all  I  had  done  wrong  in  the  course  of  the 
day,  and  then  one  error  never  grew  into  so  many ;  but  now  — 
it  must  be  out  before  Sunday,  I  suppose  —  I  never  can  talk  to 
my  father  as  I  do  on  that  day,  unless  it  is ;  —  but  go  to  bed, 
dear  Herbert ;  I  shall  have  your  pale  cheeks  upon  my  con- 
science to-morrow,  too ! " 


CHAPTER   VII. 

MR.  MORTON'S  STORY.  —  A  CONFESSION.  —  A  YOUNG  PLEAD- 
ER.  GENEROSITY   NOT   ALWAYS   JUSTICE. 

"  Do  you  remember,  Emmeline,  a  Mr.  Morton,  who  offi- 
ciated for  Mr.  Howard  at  Aveling,  five  or  six  weeks  ago  ? " 
asked  Mr.  Hamilton  of  his  wife,  on  the  Saturday  morning  after 
Herbert's  mysterious  excursion.  The  family  had  not  yet  left 
the  breakfast-table. 

"P2rf?,ctly  well,"  was  the  reply;  "poor  young  man  \  IT'S  ap 


116  HOME   INFLUENCE. 

pearance  and  painful  weakness  of  voice  called  for  commiserik 
tion  too  deeply  not  to  be  remembered." 

"  Is  he  not  deformed  ?  "  inquired  Miss  Harcourt ;  "  there  was 
something  particularly  painful  about  his  manner  as  he  stood  in 
the  pulpit." 

"  He  is  slightly  deformed  now ;  but  not  five  years  ago  he  had 
a  graceful,  almost  elegant  figure,  though  always  apparently  too 
delicate  for  the  fatiguing  mental  duties  in  which  he  indulged. 
He  was  of  good  family,  but  his  parents  were  suddenly  much 
reduced,  and  compelled  to  undergo  many  privations  to  enable 
him  to  go  to  Oxford.  There  he  allowed  himself  neither  relaxa- 
tion nor  pleasure  of  the  most  trifling  and  most  harmless  kind  ; 
his  only  wish  seemed  to  be  to  repay  his  parents  in  some  degree 
the  heavy  debt  of  gratitude  which  he  felt  he  owed  them.  His 
persevering  study,  great  talent,  and  remarkable  conduct,  won 
him  some  valuable  friends,  one  of  whom,  as  soon  as  he  was  or- 
dained, presented  him  with  a  rich  living  in  the  North.  For 
nine  months  he  enjoyed  the  most  unalloyed  happiness.  His 
pretty  vicarage  presented  a  happy,  comfortable  home  for  his 
parents,  and  the  comforts  they  now  enjoyed,  earned  by  the 
worth  of  their  son,  amply  repaid  them  for  former  privations. 
One  cold  snowy  night  he  was  summoned  to  a  poor  parishioner, 
living  about  ten  miles  distant.  The  road  was  rugged,  and  in 
some  parts  dangerous ;  but  he  was  not  a  man  to  shrink  from  his 
duty  for  such  reasons.  He  was  detained  eight  hours,  during 
which  time  the  snow  had  fallen  incessantly,  and  it  was  pitchy 
dark.  Still  believing  he  knew  his  road,  he  proceeded,  and  the 
next  morning  was  found  lying  apparently  dead  at  the  foot  of  a 
precipice,  and  almost  crushed  under  the  mangled  and  distorted 
carcass  of  his  horse." 

An  exclamation  of  horror  burst  from  all  the  little  group,  ex- 
cept from  Percy  and  Herbert ;  the  face  of  the  former  was  cov- 
ered with  his  hands,  and  his  brother  seemed  so  watching  and 
feeling  for  him,  as  to  be  unable  to  join  the  general  sympathy. 
All,  however,  were  so  engrossed  with  Mr.  Hamilton's  tale,  that 
neither  was  observed. 

"  He  was  so  severely  injured,  that  for  months  his  very  life 
was  despaired  of.  Symptoms  of  decline  followed,  and  the  ina- 
bility to  resume  his  ministerial  duties  for  years,  if  ever  again, 
compelled  him  to  resign  his  rich  and  beautiful  living  in  York- 
shire ;  and  he  fe!.t  himself  once  more  a  burden  on  his  parents, 
with  scarcely  any  hope  of  supporting  them  again.  Nor  was 
this  all ;  his  figure,  once  so  slight  and  supple,  had  becomr  so 
si  runk  and  maimed,  that  at  first  he  seemed  actually  to  loatl.o 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  117 

:he  sight  of  his  fellows.  His  voice,  once  so  lich  and  almost 
ihrilh'ng,  h  icame  wiry,  and  almost  painfully  monotonous  ;  and 
for  some  months  the  conflict  for  submission  to  this  inscrutable 
and  most  awful  trial  was  so  terrible  that  he  nearly  sunk  beneath 
it.  This  was,  of  course,  still  more  physical  than  mental,  and 
gradually  subsided,  as,  after  eighteen  months'  residence  in  Ma- 
deira, where  he  was  sent  by  a  benevolent  friend,  some  portion 
of  health  returned.  The  same  benefactor  established  his  father 
in  some  humble  but  most  welcome  business  in  London ;  and 
earnestly,  on  his  return,  did  his  parents  persuade  him  to  remain 
quietly  with  them,  and  not  undertake  the  ministry  again ;  but 
(his  he  could  not  do,  and  gratefully  accepted  a  poor  and  most 
miserable  parish  on  the  moor,  not  eight  miles  from  here." 

"  But  when  did  you  become  acquainted  with  him,  papa  ? " 
asked  Caroline  ;  "  you  have  never  mentioned  him  before." 

"  No,  my  dear ;  I  never  saw  him  till  the  Sunday  he  officiated 
for  Mr.  Howard ;  but  his  appearance  so  deeply  interested  me, 
I  did  not  rest  till  I  had  learned  his  whole  history,  which  Mr. 
Howard  had  already  discovered.  He  has  been  nearly  a  year 
in  Devonshire,  but  so  kept  aloof  from  all  but  his  own  poor  pa- 
rishioners, dreading  the  ridicule  and  sneers  of  the  more  worldly 
and  wealthy,  that  it  was  mere  accident  which  made  Mr.  How- 
ard acquainted  with  him.  Our  good  minister's  friendship  and 
earnest  exhortations  have  so  far  overcome  his  too  great  sensi- 
tiveness, as  sometimes  to  prevail  on  him  to  visit  the  Vicarage, 
and  I  trust  in  time  equally  to  succeed  in  bringing  him  here." 

"  But  what  is  he  so  afraid  of,  dear  papa  ?  "  innocently  asked 
Emmeline.  "  Surely  nobody  could  be  so  cruel  as  to  ridicule 
him  because  he  is  deformed  ?  " 

"  Unfortunately,  my  dear  child,  there  are  too  many  who  only 
enter  church  for  the  sake  of  the  sermon  and  the  preacher,  and 
to  criticize  severely  and  uncharitably  all  that  differs  from  their 
preconceived  ideas  ;  to  such  persons  Mr.  Morton  must  be  an 
object  of  derision.  And  now  I  come  to  the  real  reason  of  my 
asking  your  mother  if  she  remembered  him." 

"  Then  you  had  a  reason,"  answered  Mrs.  Hamilton,  smiling ; 
"  your  story  has  made  me  wonder  whether  you  had  or  not." 

"  I  must  tax  your  memory  once  more,  Emmeline,  before  my 
cause  is  told.  Do  you  recollect,  for  a  fortnight  after  the  Sun- 
day W3  heard  him,  he  preached  twice  a  week  at  Torrington,  to 
oblige  a  very  particular  friend  ?  " 

"  Yas,  and  that  you  feared  the  increased  number  of  the  con 
i^regalion  proceeded  far  more  from  curiosity  than  ki  ulliness  01 
devotion." 


118  IIOjIE   INFLUENCE. 

"  I  did  say  so,  and  my  fears  are  confirmed :  some  affairs 
brought  Morton  to  Torrington  for  two  or  three  days  this  week, 
and  yesterday  I  called  on  him,  and  had  some  hours'  interesting 
conversation.  He  was  evidently  even  more  than  usually  de- 
pressed and  self-shrinking,  if  I  may  use  the  word,  and  at  length 
touched,  it  seemed,  by  my  sympathy,  he  drew  my  attention  to 
a  poem  in  Harris's  '  Weekly  Magazine.'  " 

" '  It  is  not  enough  that  it  has  pleased  my  God  to  afflict  me,' 
he  said,  '  but  my  fellow-creatures  must  unkindly  make  me  the 
subjects  of  attacks  such  as  these.  There  is  indeed  no  name,  but 
to  none  else  but  me  will  it  apply.'  I  could  not  reply,  for  I 
really  felt  too  deeply  for  him.  It  was  such  a  cruel,  wanton 
insult,  the  very  talent  of  the  writer,  for  the  verses,  though  few 
in  number,  were  remarkably  clever,  adding  to  their  gall." 

"  I  wonder  Harris  should  have  published  them,"  observed 
Miss  Harcourt ;  "  his  paper  is  not  in  general  of  a  personal 
kind." 

"  It  is  never  sufficiently  guarded ;  and  it  would  require  a 
person  of  higher  principles  than  I  fear  Harris  has,  to  resist  the 
temptation  of  inserting  a  satire  likely  to  sell  a  double  or  treble 
number  of  his  papers.  I  spoke  to  him  at  once,  and  bought  up 
every  one  that  remained ;  but  though  he  expressed  regret,  it 
was  not  in  a  tone  that  at  all  satisfied  me  as  to  his  feeling  it,  and 
of  course,  as  the  paper  has  been  published  since  last  Saturday 
evening,  the  circulation  had  nearly  ceased.  If  I  could  but 
snow  the  author,  I  think  I  could  make  him  feel  the  excessive 
cruelty,  if  not  the  actual  guilt,  of  his  wanton  deed." 

"  But,  dear  papa,  the  person  who  wrote  it  might  not  have 
known  his  story,"  interposed  Caroline,  to  Edward's  and  Ellen's 
astonishment,  that  she  had  courage  to  speak  at  all ;  for  their 
uncle's  unusual  tone  and  look  brought  back  almost  more  vividly 
than  it  had  ever  done  before  their  mother's  lessons  of  his 
exceeding  and  terrible  sternness. 

"  That  does  not  excuse  the  ridicule,  my  dear  child  ;  it  only 
confirms  the  lesson  I  have  so  often  tried  to  teach  you  all,  that 
any  thing  tending  by  word  or  deed  to  hurt  the  feelings  of  a  fel- 
low-creature, is  absolutely  wrong  —  wrong  in  the  thing  itself. 
not  according  to  the  greater  or  less  amount  of  pain  it  may 
excite." 

"  But,  my  dear  husband,  the  writer  may  not  have  been  so 
taught.  Satire  and  ridicule  arc  unhappily  so  popular,  that 
these  verses  may  have  been  penned  without  any  thought  of 
their  evil  tendency,  merely  as  to  the  eclat  they  would  bring 
their  author.  We  must  not  be  too  severe,  for  we  do  r.el 
k  low  —  " 


HOME  INFLUENCE.  119 

•'  Mother !  mother !  do  not  —  do  not  speak  so,  if  you  have 
3ver  loved  me'! "  at  length  exclaimed  poor  Percy,  so  choked 
with  his  emotion,  that  he  could  only  throw  himself  by  her  side, 
bury  his  face  iu  her  lap,  and  sob  for  a  few  minutes  like  a  child. 
But  he  recovered  himself  with  a  strong  effort,  before  either  of 
his  family  could  conquer  their  anxiety  and  alarm,  and,  stand- 
ing erect,  though  pale  as  mai'ble,  without  in  the  least  degree 
attempting  excuse  or  extenuation,  acknowledged  the  poem  as 
his,  and  poured  out  his  whole  story,  with  the  sole  exception  of 
how  he  had  disposed  of  the  money,  with  which  the  second 
time  of  receiving  his  allowance  he  had  intended  to  discharge 
his  debt ;  and  the  manner  in  which  he  told  that  part  of  his  tale, 
from  the  fear  that  it  would  seem  like  an  excuse  or  a  boast,  was 
certainly  more  calculated  to  call  for  doubt  than  belief.  Her- 
bert was  about  to  speak,  but  an  imploring  glance  from  Percy 
checked  him. 

Mr.  Hamilton  was  silent  several  minutes  after  his  son  had 
concluded,  before  he  could  reply.  Percy  was  so  evidently  dis- 
tressed —  had  suffered  so  much  from  the  consequence  of  his 
own  errors  —  felt  so  intensely  the  unintentional  publication  of 
his  poem  —  for  his  father  knew  his  truth  far  too  well  to  doubt 
his  tale,  and  there  was  something  so  intrinsically  noble  in  his 
brave  confession,  that  to  condemn  him  severely  he  felt  as  if  he 
could  not. 

"  Of  wilful  cruelty  toward  Mr.  Morton,  your  story  has  cer- 
tainly exculpated  you,"  he  said,  as  sternly  as  he  could  ;  "  but 
otherwise  you  must  be  yourself  aware  that  it  has  given  me 
both  grief  and  pain,  and  the  more  so,  because  you  evidently 
shrink  from  telling  me  in  what  manner  you  squandered  away 
that  money  which  would  have  been  sufficient  to  have  fully  dis- 
charged your  debt  six  weeks  ago ;  I  must  therefore  believe 
there  is  still  some  deed  of  folly  unrevealed.  I  condemn  you  to 
no  punishment  —  you  are  old  enough  now  to  know  right  from 
wrong,  and  your  own  feelings  must  condemn  or  applaud  you. 
Had  you  been  firm,  as  I  had  hoped  you  were,  example  would 
not  so  have  worked  upon  you,  as  to  tempt  even  the  composi- 
tion of  your  satire  ;  as  it  is,  you  must  reap  the  consequences  of 
your  weakness,  in  the  painful  consciousness  that  you  have 
deeply  wounded  one,  who  it  would  seem  had  been  already  suffi- 
ciently afflicted,  and  that  confidence  must  for  the  time  be  broken 
between  us.  Go,  sir,  the  hour  of  your  attendance  on  Mr. 
Howard  is  passed." 

Mr.  Hamilton  rose  with  the  last  words,  and  somewhat  hastily 
^uitt'id  tho  room.  Percy  only  ventured  one  look  at  his  mothe: 


1 20  HOME   INFLUENCE. 

she  seemed  so  grieved  —  so  sad  —  that  he  could  not  bear  it , 
and  darting  out  of  the  room,  was  seen  in  less  than  a  minute 
traversing  the  grounds  in  the  direction  of  the  vicarage,  at  such 
a  rate  that  Edward,  fleet  as  in  general  he  was,  could  not  over- 
take him.  Herbert  lingered ;  he  could  not  bear  that  any  part 
of  Percy's  story  should  remain  concealed,  and  so  told  at  once 
how  his  second  allowance  had  been  expended. 

Mrs.  Hamilton's  eyes  glistened.  Percy's  incoherence  on 
that  one  point  had  given  her  more  anxiety  than  any  thing 'else, 
and  the  relief  the  truth  bestowed  was  inexpressible.  Impru- 
dent it  was  ;  but  there  was  something  so  lovable  in  such  a  dis 
position,  that  she  could  not  resist  going  directly  to  her  husband 
to  impart  it. 

"  You  always  bring  me  comfort,  dearest !  "  was  his  fond  re- 
joinder ;  "  anxious  as  that  boy's  thoughtlessness  must  make 
me  (for  what  are  his  temptations  now  to  what  they  will  be  ?) 
still  I  must  imbibe  your  fond  belief,  that  with  such  an  open, 
generous,  truthful  heart,  he  cannot  go  far  wrong.  But  what 
arc  we  to  do  about  that  unfortunate  poem  ?  I  cannot  associate 
with  Morton,  knowing  the  truth  and  yet  permit  him  to  believe 
I  am  as  ignorant  of  the  author  as  himself." 

"  Let  me  speak  to  Percy  before  we  decide  on  any  thing,  my 
dear  Arthur.  Is  Mr.  Morton  still  at  Torrington  ?  " 

"  No  ;  he  was  to  return  to  Heathmore  this  morning." 

Mrs.  Hamilton  looked  very  thoughtful,  but  she  did  not  make 
any  rejoinder, 

In  the  hour  of  recreation  Ernmeline,  declaring  it  was  much 
too  hot  for  the  garden,  sought  her  mother's  private  sitting-room, 
with  the  intention  of  asking  where  she  could  find  her  father. 
To  her  great  delight,  the  question  was  arrested  on  her  lips,  for 
he  was  there.  She  seated  herself  on  his  knee,  and  remained 
there  for  some  minutes  without  speaking  —  only  looking  up  in 
his  face  with  the  most  coaxing  expression  imaginable. 

"  Well,  Emmeline,  what  great  favor  are  you  going  to  ask 
me  ?  "  said  Mr.  Hamilton,  smiling  ;  "  some  weighty  boon,  I  am 
imte  sure." 

"  Indeed,  papa,  and  how  do  you  know  that  ?  " 

"  I  can  read  it  in  your  eyes." 

"  My  eyes  are  treacherous  tell-tales  then,  and  you  shall  not 
see  them  any  more,"  she  replied,  laughing,  and  shaking  her 
head  till  her  long  bright  ringlets  completely  hid  her  eyes  and 
ulushing  cheeks.  "  But  have  they  told  you  the  favor  I  am 
going  to  ask  ?  " 

"  No,"  replied  her  father,  joining  in  her  laugh  ;  "  tl  ey  leave 
that  to  your  tongue." 


HOME    INFLUENCE.  121 

"  i  can  read  more,  I  think,"  said  Mrs.  Hamilton ;  "  I  am 
very  much  mistaken,  if  I  do  not  know  what  Emmeline  is  going 
to  ask." 

"  Only  that  —  that  —  "  still  she  hesitated,  as  if  afraid  to 
continue,  and  her  mother  added  — 

"  That  papa  will  not  be  very  angry  with  Percy  ;  Emmeline, 
is  not  that  the  boon  you  have  no  courage  to  ask  ?  " 

A  still  deeper  glow  mounted  to  the  child's  fair  cheek,  and 
throwing  her  arms  round  her  father's  neck,  she  said,  coaxingly 
and  fondly  — 

"  Mamma  has  guessed  it,  dear  papa !  you  must,  indeed,  you 
must  forgive  him  —  poor  fellow !  he  is  so  very  sorry,  and  he 
has  suffered  so  much  already  —  and  he  did  not  throw  away  his 
money  foolishly,  as  you  thought ;  he  gave  it  to  some  very  poor 
people  —  and  you  are  always  pleased  when  we  are  charitable  ; 
pray  forget  every  thing  else  but  that,  and  treat  him  as  you 
always  do,  dear  papa  —  will  you  not  ?  " 

"  I  wonder  which  is  most  certain  —  that  mamma  must  be  a 
witch,  or  Emmeline  a  most  eloquent  little  pleader,"  said  Mr. 
Hamilton,  caressingly  stroking  the  ringlets  she  had  disordered, 
"  and  suppose,  after  to-day,  I  do  grant  your  request  —  what 
then  ?  " 

"  Oh,  you  will  be  such  a  dear,  darling,  good  papa ! "  ex- 
claimed Emmeline,  almost  suffocating  him  with  kisses,  and  then 
starting  from  his  knee,  she  danced  about  the  room  in  a  perfect 
ecstasy  of  delight ;  "  and  Percy  will  be  happy  again,  and  we 
shall  all  be  so  happy.  Mamma,  dear  mamma,  I  am  sure  you 
will  be  glad  too." 

"  And  now,  Emmeline,  when  you  have  danced  yourself  sober 
again,  come  back  to  your  seat,  for  as  I  have  listened  to  arid 
answered  you,  you  must  listen  to  and  answer  me." 

In  an  instant  she  was  on  his  knee  again,  quite  quiet  and 
attentive. 

"  In  the  first  place,  do  you  think  Percy  was  justified  making 
Mr.  Morton  an  object  of  satire  at  all,  even  if  it  should  never 
have  left  his  own  portfolio  ?  " 

"  No,  papa,  and  I  am  quite  sure,  if  he  had  not  been  rather 
more  excited — -and  —  and  heedless  than  usual  —  which  waa 
very  likely  he  should  be,  you  know,  papa,  after  such  a  day  of 
nothing  but  pleasure  —  he  would  never  have  done  such  a  thing ; 
t  am  sure  he  did  not  think  of  hurting  Mr.  Morton's  feelings ; 
he  only  wanted  to  prove  that  he  was  quite  as  clever  as  his  com- 
panion?, and  that  was  very  natural,  ycu  know,  when  he  is  so 


122  HOME   INFLUENCE. 

clever  at  such  things.  But  my  brother  Percy  willingly  ridieult 
A  clergyman !  no,  no,  dear  papa,  pray  do  not  believe  it." 

"Well  defended,  my  little  girl;  but  how  do  you  justify  his 
disobeying  my  commands,  and  incurring  a  debt  ?  " 

Emmeline  was  silent.  "  He  was  very  wrong  to  do  that, 
papa  ;  but  I  am  sure,  when  he  ordered  the  engravings,  he  did 
not  intend  to  disobey  you,  and  you  know  he  is  naturally  very  — 
I  mean  a  little  impatient." 

"  Still  on  the  defensive,  Emmeline,  even  against  your  better 
judgment.  Well,  well,  I  must  not  make  you  condemn  your 
brother ;  does  he  know  what  an  eloquent  pleader  he  has  in  hi> 
dister  ?  " 

"  No,  papa ;  and  pray  do  not  tell  him." 

«  And  why  not  ?  " 

"  Because  he  might  think  it  was  only  for  my  sake  you  for- 
gave him,  and  not  for  his  own ;  and  I  know  I  should  not  like 
that,  if  I  were  in  his  place." 

"  He  shall  know  nothing  more  than  you  desire,  my  dear  little 
girl,"  replied  her  father,  drawing  her  closer  to  him,  with  almost 
involuntary  tenderness.  "  And  now  will  you  try  and  remember 
what  I  am  going  to  say.  You  wish  me  only  to  think  of  Percy's 
kind  act  in  giving  his  money  to  the  poor  people  ;  but  I  should 
have  been  better  pleased  in  this  case,  had  he  been  more  just, 
and  not  so  generous.  I  know  it  is  not  unfrequently  said  by 
young  persons,  when  they  think  they  are  doing  a  charitable 
act,  and  can  only  do  it  by  postponing  the  payment  of  their 
debts  — '  Oh,  Mr.  So-and-so  lias  plenty  of  business,  he  can  af- 
ford to  wait  for  his  money,  but  these  poor  creatures  are  starv- 
ing.' Now  this  is  not  generosity  or  charity,  but  actual  injustice, 
and  giving  away  money  which  is  literally  not  their  own.  I  do 
not  believe  Percy  thought  so,  because  I  have  no  doubt  he  for- 
got Mr.  Harris,  at  the  time,  entirely ;  but  still,  as  it  was  a  mere 
impulse  of  kindness,  it  does  not  please  me  quite  so  much  as  it 
does  you." 

"But  it  was  charity,  papa,  was  it  not?  You  have  said  that 
whenever  we  are  kind  and  good  to  the  poor,  God  is  pleased 
with  us ;  and  if  Percy  did  not  intend  to  wrong  Mr.  Harris,  and 
jnly  thought  about  relieving  the  poor  family,  was  it  not  a  good 
feeling  ?  " 

•'  It  was ;  but  it  might  have  been  still  worthier.  Suppose 
Percy  had  encountered  this  case  of  distress  when  on  his  way 
to  order  his  engravings,  and  to  enable  him  to  relieve  it  as  he 
wished,  he  had  given  up  the  purchasing  them.  That  In-  found 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  122 

he  could  not  afford  the  two,  and  so  gave  up  the  one  mere  indi- 
vidual gratification,  to  succor  some  unhappy  fellow-creatures ; 
would  not  that  have  been  still  worthier  ?  and  by  the  conquest 
of  his  own  inclinations  rendered  his  charity  still  more  accepta- 
ble to  God  ?  Do  you  quite  understand  me,  Emmy  ?  " 

"I  think  I  do,  dear  papa ;  you  mean  that,  though  God  is  so 
good,  He  is  pleased  whenever  we  are  charitable,  He  is  still 
better  pleased  when  to  be  so  gives  us  a  litttle  pain." 

"  Very  well  explained,  my  little  girl ;  so  you  see  in  this  in- 
stance, if  Percy  had  been  just  before  he  was  generous,  and  then 
to  be  generous,  had  denied  himself  some  pleasure,  his  conduct 
would  not  have  given  us  or  himself  any  pain,  but  have  been 
quite  as  worthy  of  all  the  praise  you  could  bestow.  And  now 
I  wonder  how  mamma  could  have  discovered  so  exactly  what 
favor  you  had  to  ask  ?  " 

"  Oh,  mamma  always  knows  all  my  feelings  and  wishes, 
almost  before  I  know  them  myself,  though  I  never  can  find  out 
uow." 

"  Shall  I  tell  you,  Emmeline  ?  Your  mother  has  devoted 
hours,  weeks,  months,  and  years  to  studying  the  characters  of 
all  her  children ;  so  to  know  them,  that  she  may  not  only  be 
able  to  guide  you  in  the  path  of  good,  but  to  share  all  your 
little  joys  and  sorrows,  to  heighten  the  one  and  guard  you  from 
the  other.  Ought  you  not  to  be  very  grateful  to  your  Father 
in  Heaven  for  giving  you  such  a  mother  ?  " 

His  child  made  no  answer  in  words,  but  she  slipped  from  his 
knee,  and  darting  to  her  mother,  clasped  her  little  arms  tight 
round  her  neck,  and  hid  her  glowing  cheeks  and  tearful  eyes  in 
her  bosom.  And  from  that  hour,  as  she  felt  her  mother's 
fond  return  of  that  passionate  embrace,  her  love  became  reli- 
gion, though  she  knew  it  not.  Her  thoughts  fle\v  to  her  cou- 
sins and  many  others,  who  had  no  mother,  and  to  others  whose 
mothers  left  them  to  nurses  anl  governesses,  and  seemed  always 
to  keep  them  at  a  distance.  And  she  felt,  How  could  she 
thank  and  love  God  enough?  Nor  was  it  the  mere  feeling  cf 
the  moment,  it  became  part  of  her  being,  for  the  right 
lia-il  been  seized  to  impress  it. 


HOME   INFLUENCE. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

AN    UNPLEASANT   PROPOSAL. THE   MYSTERY  SOLVED. — A 

FATHER'S  GRIEF   FROM  A  MOTHER'S   WEAKNESS.  —  A  FA- 
THER'S JOY  FROM  A  MOTHER'S  INFLUENCE.- 

MEANWHILE  the  young  heir  of  Oakwood  had  passed  no  very 
pleasant  day.  His  thoughts  since  Mr.  Howard's  return  had 
been  so  preoccupied,  that  his  studies  had  been  unusually  neg- 
lected; so  much  so,  as  rather  to  excite  the  displeasure  of  his 
gentle  and  forbearing  preceptor.  The  emotion  of  the  morning 
had  not  tended  to  steady  his  ideas,  and  a  severe  reproof  and 
long  imposition  was  the  consequence.  Not  one  word  did  he 
deign  to  address  Herbert  and  Edward,  who,  perceiving  him 
leave  the  Vicarage  with  every  mark  of  irritation,  endeavored, 
during  their  walk  home,  to  soothe  him.  His  step  was  even 
more  rapid  than  that  in  which  he  had  left  home,  and  he  neither 
stopped  nor  spoke  till  he  had  reached  his  father's  library,  which, 
fortunately  for  the  indulgence  of  his  ire  in  words,  was  untenant- 
ed.  He  dashed  his  cap  from  his  brow,  flung  his  books  with 
violence  on  the  ground,  and  burst  forth  — 

"Am  I  not  a  fool  —  an  idiot,  thus  to  torment  myself,  and  for 
one  act  of  folly,  when  hundreds  of  boys,  at  my  age,  are  entirely 
their  own  masters  ?  do  what  they  please  —  spend  what  they 
please  —  neither  questioned  nor  reproved  —  and  that  poem  — 
how  many  would  glory  in  its  authorship,  and  not  care  a  whit 
whom  it  might  wound.  Why  am  I  such  a  fool,  as  to  reproach 
myself  about  it,  and  then  be  punished,  like  a  school-boy,  with 
an  imposition  to  occupy  me  at  home,  because  I  did  not  choose 
to  learn  in  the  hours  of  study  ?  —  Not  choose !  I  wish  Mr.  How- 
ard could  feel  as  I  have  done  to-day,  nay,  all  this  week ;  and  I 
challenge  him  to  bore  his  head  with  Greek  and  Latin !  But 
why  am  I  so  cowed  as  to  feel  so  ?  Why  cannot  I  have  the  same 
spirit  as  others  —  instead  of  being  such  a  slave  —  such  a  —  " 

"  Percy ! "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Hamilton,  who,  having  sought  him 
the  moment  she  heard  the  hall-door  close,  had  heard  nearly  the 
whole  of  his  violent  speech,  and  was  almost  alarmed  at  the  un- 
asual  passion  it  evinced.  Her  voice  of  astonished  expostulation 
•  liecked  his  words,  but  not  his  agitation;  he  threw  himself  on 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  1-5 

A  chair,  leaning  his  arms  upon  the  table,  buried  his  face  upon 
them,  while  his  whole  frame  shook.  His  mother  sat  down  by 
him,  and  laying  her  hand  on  his  arm,  said  gently  — 

"  What  is  it  that  has  so  irritated  you,  my  dear  Percy  ?  What 
has  made  you  return  home  in  such  a  very  different  mood  to  that 
in  which  you  left  it?  Tell  me,  my  boy." 

Percy  tried  to  keep  silence,  for  he  knew  if  he  spoke  he 
should,  as  he  expressed  it,  be  a  child  again,  and  his  pride  tried 
hard  for  victory.  Even  his  father  or  Herbert  at  that  moment 
would  have  chafed  him  into  increased  anger,  but  the  almost 
passionate  love  and  reverence  which  he  felt  for  his  mother  tri- 
umphed over  his  wrath,  and  told  him  he  was  much  more  un- 
happy than  angry ;  and  that  he  longed  for  her  to  comfort  him, 
as  she  always  had  done  in  his  childish  griefs ;  and  so  he  put  his 
arms  round  her,  and  laid  his  head  on  her  shoulder  and  said,  in 
a  half-choked  voice, — 

"I  am  very  unhappy,  mother;  I  feel  as  if  I  had  been  every 
thing  that  was  bad,  and  cruel,  and  foolish,  and  so  it  was  a  reliet 
to  be  in  a  passion ;  but  I  did  not  mean  you  to  hear  it,  and  cause 
you  more  grief  than  I  have  done  already." 

"  You  have  been  very  thoughtless,  very  foolish,  and  not  quite 
so  firm  as  we  could  have  wished,  my  own  dear  boy,  but  I  will 
not  have  you  accuse  yourself  of  any  graver  faults,"  replied  Mrs. 
Hamilton,  as  she  lightly  pushed  back  the  clustering  hair  from 
his  heated  forehead,  and  the  gentle  touch  of  her  cool  hand 
seemed  as  restorative  as  her  soothing  words ;  and  Percy,  as  he 
listened  to  her,  as  she  continued  speaking  to  him  in  the  same 
strain  for  some  little  time,  felt  more  relieved  than  five  minutes 
before  he  thought  possible,  and  more  than  ever  determined  that 
he  would  never  act  so  thoughtlessly ;  or,  if  he  were  tempted  to 
do  so,  never  keep  it  concealed  so  long  again.  Mrs.  Hamilton's 
anxious  desire  with  him  was,  always  to  do  justice  to  his  better 
qualities,  at  the  same  time  that  she  blamed  and  convinced  him 
of  his  faults.  It  was  a  very  delicate  thing,  and  very  difficult  to 
succeed  in,  perhaps  impossible  to  minds  less  peculiarly  refined, 
and  hearts  less  intensely  anxious  than  Mrs.  Hamilton's ;  but  no 
difficulty,  no  failure,  had  ever  deterred  her  —  and  in  Percy  she 
was  already  rewarded.  He  was  of  that  high,  fine  spirit,  that 
any  unjust  harshness  would  have  actually  confirmed  in  error  — 
any  unguarded  word  bring  argument  on  argument,  and  so,  foi 
the  mere  sake  of  opposition,  cause  him  to  abide  in  his  opinion.*, 
when  the  acknowledgment  of  his  being  right  in  some  things, 
produced  the  voluntary  confession  of  his  error  in  others. 

"And  now  about  these  unfortunate  verses,  mv  dear  bov ;  ! 
1 


12G  HCME    INFLUENCE. 

am  not  quite  clear  as  to  their  fate,  bow  it  happened  M  at  you 
did  not  destroy  them  directly  you  returned  home." 

"I  fully  intended,  and  believed  I  bad  done  so,  mother,  but 
the  whirl  of  that  night  seemed  to  extend  to  the  morning,  and  I 
dressed  and  prepared  for  Mr.  Howard  in  such  a  hurry  (I  had 
overslept  myself,  too)  that  though  I  had  quite  resolved  they 
should  not  pollute  my  pocket-book  any  longer,  I  had  no  time  to 
look  over  my  papers  —  thought  I  could  not  be  mistaken  in  their 
outside  —  burnt  those  I  really  wished  to  keep,  and  threw  those 
wliich  have  caused  me  all  this  pain  into  my  portfolio.  If  I  had 
but  been  firm  enough  to  have  followed  my  father's  advice,  and 
left  my  companions  before  supper !  —  or,  if  I  did  join  them,  had 
not  been  so  weak,  so  mad,  as  to  yield  to  the  temptation,  but 
adhered  to  my  principles,  notwithstanding  they  might  have 
been  laughed  at,  I  might  have  been  spared  it  all ;  but  I  was  so 
excited,  so  heated,  with  a  more  than  sufficient  quantity  of  wine, 
.that  I  did  not  know  what  I  was  about  —  not  its  extent  of 
wrong,  at  least." 

"  And  you  have  suffered  enough  for  an  evening's  excitement, 
my  poor  boy ;  but  I  am  sure  you  would  atone  for  it,  if  you 
could." 

"Atone  for  it,  mother  !  I  would  give  all  I  possess  to  cancel 
that  odious  poem,  and  blot  it  from  Mr.  Moi  ton's  memory,  as 
from  my  own." 

"And  I  think  you  can  do  both,  Percy." 

He  looked  at  her  in  utter  bewilderment. 

"  Do  both,  mother  !  "  he  repeated. 

"  Yes,  my  boy !  it  is  a  painful  remedy,  but  it  would  be  an 
effectual  one.  Seek  Mr.  Morton,  and  tell  him  yourself  your 
whole  story." 

Percy  crimsoned  to  the  very  temples. 

"  Do  not  ask  me  such  a  thing,  mother,"  he  answered  very 
Hurriedly ;  "  I  cannot  do  it." 

"  You  think  so  at  this  moment,  my  dear  boy ;  I  am  not  at 
all  astonished  that  you  should,  for  it  will  be  very  humiliating, 
and  very  painful ;  and  if  I  could  spare  you  either  the  humilia- 
tion or  the  pain,  yet  produce  the  same  good  effects,  I  need  not 
tell  you  how  gladly  I  would  ;  but  no  one  can  remove  the  sting 
of  that  poem  from  Mr.  Morton's  sensitive  feelings  but  yourself; 
and  I  am  quite  sure  if  you  will  allow  yourself  a  little  time  for 
quiet  thought,  you  will  agree  with  me." 

"  But  why  should  I  inllict  such  pain  upon  myself,  granting  I 
deserve  it  ? "  answered  Percy,  still  much  heated ;  "  when, 
though  my  poem  is  the  only  one  that  has  unfortunately  met  hi? 


HOME    INFLUENCE.  127 

eye,  the  others  were  quite  as  galling  and  my  cortf  ani>ns  quite 
as  much  to  blame  —  why  should  I  be  the  sufferer  ?  " 

"  Because,  by  many  errors,  you  have  brought  it  on  yourself. 
Your  companions  did  indeed  act  very  wrongly,  but  are  we  quite 
sure  that  the  principles  which  your  father  and  Mr.  Howard 
have  so  carefully  impressed  upon  you,  have  been  as  carefully 
impressed  upon  them  ?  and  in  such  a  case  are  not  you  the  more 
responsible  ?  They  had  evidently  no  inward  check  to  keep 
them  from  such  an  amusement ;  you  had,  for  you  have  ac 
knowledged  that  you  kept  aloof  at  first,  knowing  it  was  wrong, 
and  only  yielded  from  want  of  sufficient  firmness.  Inflict  the 
pain  of  an  avowal  upon  yourself,  my  boy  and  its  memory  will 
help  you  in  future  from  yielding  to  too  great  weakness  —  and 
the  act  prove  to  us  that,  though  for  a  moment  led  into  great 
error,  you  are  still  as  brave  and  honest  as  we  believe  you." 

Percy  did  not  reply,  but  his  countenance  denoted  an  inward 
struggle,  and  his  mother  added  — 

"  Suppose,  as  is  very  likely,  Mr.  Morton  becomes  intimate 
here,  how  can  you,  with  your  open,  truthful  heart,  associate 
with  him,  with  any  comfort  or  confidence  even  though  perfectly 
satisfied  that  we  would  not  betray  you,  and  that  he  would  never 
know  the  truth  ?  You  may  fancy  now  that  you  could,  but  I 
know  my  Percy  better  ;  but  I  must  not  talk  to  you  any  more, 
for  the  dressing-bell  rang  some  minutes  ago.  Remember,  my 
dear  boy,  that  I  lay  no  command  on  you  to  seek  Mr.  Morton ; 
I  have  only  told  you  that  which  I  believe  would  restore  you 
to  happiness  and  atone  for  your  faults,  more  effectually  than 
any  thing  else  ;  but  you  are  quite  at  liberty  to  act  as  you  think 
proper." 

She  left  the  room  as  she  spoke,  but  Percy  remained  for  some 
few  minutes  longer  in  deep  thought,  and  when  he  prepared  for 
dinner,  and  joined  his  family,  it  was  still  in  the  same  unbroken 
silence.  Mr.  Hamilton  took  no  notice  of  him,  and  two  or  three 
times  the  little  affectionate  Emmeline  felt  the  tears  rising  to  hei 
eyes,  for  she  could  not  bear  to  see  that  brother,  who  was  in 
general  the  life  of  the  family  group,  so  silent  and  abstracted. 

Sliding  after  him,  as  he  quitted  the  room  after  dinner,  she 
took  his  hand,  and  looked  coaxingly  in  1  ;is  face,  longing,  but  not 
daring  to  tell  him  her  father's  promise,  for  fear  he  should  dis- 
cover her  share  in  the  transaction. 

"  Well,  dear  Emmy  ?  " 

"Are  you  going  to  take  a  walk,  Percy?  —  let  me  go  witli 

fOU." 

"  I  do  not  think  I  am,  love.     I  may  be  going  to  ride." 


128  HOME   INFLULlvCE. 

"  To  ride ! "  repeated  the  little  girl ;  "  will  it  be  worth  while  ? ' 

"  You  forget,  Emmy,  it  is  summer  now,  I  have  full  four 
hours  before  prayers  ;  but  do  not  say  any  thing  about  my  ir>- 
tentions,  Emmeline,  for  I  do  not  know  them  myself  yet." 

He  kissed  her  forehead  and  left  her,  and  a  few  minutes  after- 
ward she  was  summoned  to  join  her  mother,  Caroline,  and  El- 
len, in  a  walk.  They  sauntered  through  the  grounds  in  the 
direction  of  the  northern  lodge,  which  opened  on  the  road  lead- 
ing to  Dartmoor ;  when,  not  a  quarter  of  an  hour  after  they  had 
left  the  house,  they  were  overtaken  by  Percy,  riding  at  what 
seemed  almost  a  hand  gallop,  but  he  had  time  as  he  passed  his 
mother  to  gracefully  doff  his  cap,  and  her  fond  heart  throbbed 
as  she  caught  the  expression  of  his  flushed,  but  earnest  face. 
He  was  out  of  sight  in  another  moment,  followed  by  Robert, 
who  was  the  lads'  constant  attendant. 

Before  they  had  concluded  their  walk,  they  met  Mrs.  Greville 
and  Mary,  and  returned  with  them  to  the  house.  Emmeline, 
who  had  not  seen  Mary  for  nearly  a  fortnight,  was  in  an  ecstasy 
of  enjoyment,  and  Ellen  always  felt  it  a  real  pleasure  quietly 
to  walk  by  Mary's  side,  and  answer  the  many  questions  with 
which  she  always  contrived  to  interest  her.  On  entering  the 
house,  Mr.  Hamilton,  Herbert,  and  Edward  joined  them,  and 
Mrs.  Hamilton  was  somewhat  surprised  at  the  even  more  than 
ordinary  warmth  with  which  her  son  was  greeted  by  her  friends, 
and  at  the  flush  which  stained  his  cheek  at  Mrs.  Greville's  first 
words  — 

"  You  were  not  too  much  fatigued  last  Thursday,  I  hope,  my 
dear  Herbert  ? "  she  inquired,  and  as  she  looked  at  him,  her 
eyes  glistened  in  tears. 

"  Oh,  not  in  the  least,"  he  replied  instantly,  and  as  if  he  would 
exceedingly  like  to  change  the  subject ;  but  Mrs.  Greville, 
turning  to  Mrs.  Hamilton,  continued  — 

"  Will  you  forgive  me,  Emmeline,  if  I  confess  that  my  visit 
this  evening  was  more  to  inquire  after  your  son,  than  even  tc 
see  you.  I  was  so  anxious  to  know  that  he  had  suffered  no 
inconvenience  from  his  unusual,  and  I  am  sure  fatiguing,  exer- 
tion.'' 

"  I  suppose  I  must  no  be  jealous,  as  you  are  so  candid,"  re- 
plied Mrs.  Hamilton,  smiling ;  "  but  I  feel  very  much  inclined 
to  be  so,  finding  that  you  are  more  in  my  son's  confidence  than 
I  am  mj-self.  I  know  Herbert  was  from  home  on  Thursday, 
but  I  was  not  aware  of  any  particular  exertion  on  his  part." 

"  Did  you  not  know  then  where  he  went  ?  "  exclaimed  Mary 
*nd  her  mother  at  the  same  moment ;  and  the  former  c  MI 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  129 

turned,  with  unusual  eagerness,  "  Did  you  no:  knov/  tliat  h* 
went  to  the  races,  to  try  and  hear  something  of  Alfred  ?  and 
that  by  hunting  about  both  the  fair  and  the  race-ground  — 
scenes  which  I  know  he  so  much  dislikes  —  he  actually  found 
him,  and  amused  him  so  successfully,  that  he  kept  him  with 
him  all  day.  Papa  was  so  engaged  that  lie  had  no  time  to 
look  after  Alfred,  who,  from  being  left  entirely  to  himself, 
might  have  sought  the  worst  companions  ;  I  cannot  think  what 
charm  Herbert  used,  but  Alfred  was  quite  contented  to  be  with 
him  ;  they  dined  together,  and  —  " 

"  He  brought  me  what,  next  to  my  boy  himself,  was  the 
greatest  consolation  I  could  have,"  interposed  Mrs.  Greville, 
her  voice  so  faltering,  that  tears  almost  escaped,  —  "a  few  lines 
which,  he  assures  me,  Alfred  thought  of  writing  himself,  telling 
me,  he  could  not  bear  to  think  he  had  left  home  without  kissing 
me,  and  that,  though  he  was  so  happy  with  his  father,  that  he 
could  not  wish  to  return  home,  he  still  loved  me  and  Mary 
very,  very  much,  and  would  continue  to  love  us,  and  come 
and  see  us,  whenever  he  could.  Oh,  Emmeline,  can  you  not 
imagine  the  relief  of  such  a  letter,  of  hearing  of  him  at  all? 
and  it  was  all  through  the  kindness,  the  goodness  of  your  boy  !  " 

When  Mrs.  Greville  and  Mary  had  first  begun  to  speak, 
Herbert  tried  to  retreat ;  but  Edward  placing  himself  against 
the  door,  so  that  to  open  it  was  impossible,  and  Caroline  and 
Emmeline,  both  at  once  catching  hold  of  him,  to  keep  him 
prisoner,  egress  was  not  to  be  thought  of;  so,  in  laughing  de- 
spair, he  broke  from  his  sisters,  flung  himself  on  his  usual  seat, 
his  mother's  stool,  and  almost  hid  himself  in  her  dress. 

"  It  must  have  been  a  relief,  indeed,"  answered  Mr.  Hamil- 
ton ;  "  and  rejoiced  am  I  that  my  quiet  Herbert  thought  of  such 
a  plan.  Look  up,  Master  Shamefaced,  and  tell  us  the  reason 
of  your  most  extraordinary  mystery  on  this  occasion.  Why 
did  you  so  carefully  conceal  your  intentions  from  your  mother 
and  myself  ?  " 

"  Because,  papa,  I  feared  you  might  not  approve  of  them  ; 
I  hardly  dared  think  about  it  myself,  for  it  seemed  as  if  I  were 
doing  actually  wrong  in  disregarding  your  principles,  for  only 
the  chance  of  effecting  good.  I  know,  if  I  had  mentioned  my 
wish  to  find  Alfred,  or  hear  something  about  him,  you  would 
not  have  refused  my  going ;  but  then  mamma  must  have  known 
it,  and  she  would  have  been  anxious  and  uncomfortable,  if  I 
had  not  appeared  the  very  moment  I  had  named ;  would  yon 
not?"  he  continued,  looking  up  in  her  face  with  that  expression 
of  affection,  which  very  few,  even  comparative  strangers,  had 
power  to  resist. 


liJO  HOME   INFLUENCK 

"I  sh:uld  indeed,  rny  dear  boy;  I  fear  I  should  have  con 
demned  your  scheme  as  a  very  wild  one,  and  really  am  glad 
you  thought  so  much  of  my  comfort,  as  not  to  tell  me  more 
than  you  did.  So  I  must  not  even  be  jealous,  Jessie,  but  rather 
propose  a  vote  of  thanks  to  you  and  Mary  for  solving  the  mys- 
tery. I  do  not  think  Herbert  ever  excited  so  much  curiosity 
and  speculation,  in  his  life,  before." 

The  entrance  of  Mr.  Grahame  changed  the  current  of  the 
conversation,  greatly  to  Herbert's  relief,  for  he  did  not  at  all 
like  being  thus  brought  forward.  Austere  as  Grahame  was  at 
home,  he  was  always  welcomed  with  pleasure  by  the  young 
Hamiltons,  who  never  could  understand  why  Annie  and  Cecil 
should  so  fear  him.  That  something  unusual  had  annoyed  him, 
Mr.  Hamilton  perceived  at  the  first  glance ;  but  he  took  no 
notice,  for  Grahame  seemed  to  find  relief  in  talking  gayly  to 
the  young  people. 

"  And  where  is  my  friend  Percy  ?  "  he  inquired,  as  he  joined 
the  happy  group  at  tea,  and  Percy  was  still  absent.  Mr.  Ha- 
milton repeated  the  question  in  some  surprise ;  but  his  wife  re- 
plying that  he  had  gone  to  ride,  and  might  not  be  back  yet,  the 
subject  dropped. 

After  tea,  Mrs.  Greville  and  Mary,  attended  by  Herbert  and 
Edward,  returned  to  the  Manor  ;  and  the  little  girls  went  to 
finish  some  business  for  the  next  day,  and  amuse  themselves  as 
they  liked.  Grahame  remained  alone  with  his  friends,  who  at 
length  drew  from  him  the  cause  of  his  solicitude.  He  had,  that 
morning,  discovered  that,  notwithstanding  his  positive  com- 
mands, Cecil  had  gone  to  the  prohibited  places  of  amusement. 
His  wife  had  prevaricated  when  he  questioned  her ;  at  one 
moment  almost  denying  her  connivance  at  the  boy's  disobedi- 
ence, at  another  unconsciously  acknowledging  it,  by  insisting 
that  there  was  no  harm  in  it ;  and  if  Grahame  would  persist  in 
so  interfering  with  his  children's  amusements,  he  must  expect 
to  be  disobeyed.  If  such  were  his  home,  where  was  he  tc 
look  for  truth,  honor,  and  affection  ?  What  would  be  his  son's 
after  career,  if  such  were  the  lessons  of  his  childhood  ?  lie 
had  punished  him  severely,  but  there  was  little  hope  of  its  pro- 
ducing any  good  effect,  when  his  wife  was  yet  more  to  blame 
than  his  child.  It  would  only  alienate  the  boy's  affections  still 
more  from  him.  Yet  what  could  he  do  ?  Could  he  let  such 
disobedience  and  untruthfulness  —  for  Cecil  had  denied  his 
having  been  at  the  races  —  pass  unnoticed?  He  had  s'mt 
himself  up  in  his  library  the  remainder  of  the  day ;  bu*  at 
length,  unable  to  bear  his  own  thoughts,  hud  walked  ov»?j  tc 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  131 

Oak  wood,  feeling  sure,  if  peace  were  to  be  found,  he   should 
tind  it  there. 

Their  sympathy  it  was  easy  for  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hamilton  to 
give  —  for  they  felt  it  sincerely  —  but  to  advise  was  both  deli- 
cate and  difficult.  To  interfere  in  a  household  is  not  the  part 
even  of  the  most  intimate  friends.  And  when  Lady  Helen 
herself  encouraged  the  boy  in  his  disobedience,  and  showed  him 
an  example  of  equivocation,  what  could  be  said  ?  Grahame 
could  not  bear  the  idea  of  a  public  school  for  a  boy  scarcely 
eleven,  and  whose  home  influence  was  so  injurious,  and  Mr. 
Hamilton  could  not  advise  it.  He  tried,  therefore,  merely  to 
raise  the  depressed  spirits  of  his  friend,  bringing  forward  many 
instances,  when  even  the  best  training  failed ;  and  others  where 
the  faults  of  childhood  were  subdued  by  circumstances,  and 
became  fair  promising  youth.  Grahame  shook  his  head  de- 
spondingly. 

"  You  can  scarcely  be  a  fit  judge  of  my  trial,  Hamilton,"  he 
said ;  "  you  have  known  nothing  but  the  blessing  of  hand-in- 
hand  companionship,  in  the  training  of  your  children,  as  in 
every  thing  else.  There  must  be  unity  between  father  and 
mother,  or  there  is  little  hope  of  joy  in  their  offspring  for 
either  ;  were  my  wife  only  in  some  things  like  yours  —  but  I 
see  I  must  not  speak  so,"  he  added  hurriedly,  as  he  met  a 
glance  of  reproach  from  Mrs.  Hamilton,  and  he  turned  to  ad- 
dress the  two  lads,  who  at  that  instant  entered  from  their  walk. 
The  bell  for  prayers  rung  soon  afterward,  and  Grahame  rose 
to  say  good  night. 

"  Nay,  stay  with  us,"  said  Mr.  Hamilton,  earnestly.  "  "Why 
should  the  call  for  devotion  be  the  signal  for  separation  ?  join 
us,  Grahame.  It  is  not  the  first  time  by  very  many  that  we 
have  prayed  together." 

Grahame  yielded  without  an  instant's  hesitation.  Still 
Percy  had  not  returned,  and  his  mother  became  dreadfully 
anxious.  Her  husband,  at  her  request,  waited  a  quarter  of  an 
hour,  but  reluctantly ;  for  he  was  more  particular  that  every 
member  of  his  household  should  assemble  at  the  stated  hour  of 
prayer,  than  in  any  othor  point  relating  to  his  establishment 
Scarcely,  however,  had  the  first  word  been  suid,  when  P<  rcy 
and  Robert  entered,  and  the  former,  with  a  very  rapid,  but 
noiseless  step,  traversed  the  large  room,  and  kneeled  in  his  ac- 
customed place.  In  vain  did  Mrs.  Hamilton  try  to  keep  her 
thoughts  fixed  on  the  service.  Had  he  really  been  to  Mr. 
Morton,  and  if  he  had,  how  had  he  been  received  ?  had  his 
fine  spirit  been  soothed  or  irritated?  and  a  thousand  clhor 


132  HOME    INFLUEV3E. 

nan:  eless  but  natural  fears  thronged  her  heart.  But  one  look 
on  her  son  as  he  rose  reassured  her ;  his  cheek  was  flushed 
with  rapid  riding,  but  his  dark  eye  sparkled,  and  he  looked 
more  bright  and  joyous  than  he  had  done  for  weeks.  Ho 
advanced  without  hesitation  to  Mr.  Hamilton  the  moment  the 
domestics  had  quitted  the  library  and  said,  eagerly,  but  still 
respectfully  — 

"  Will  you,  too,  forgive  me,  my  dear  father  ?  Mr.  Morton 
knows  the  whole  truth,  and  has  not  only  pardoned  my  cruel 
'.oily,  but  assured  me,  that  I  have  more  than  atoned  for  the  pain 
my  hateful  verses  inflicted;  that  he  will  laugh  at  them  him- 
self, and  declare  he  knows  their  author  as  a  most  particulai 
friend  —  which  he  hopes  you  will  permit  me  to  become  — 
whenever  he  has  the  opportunity ;  for  that  such  notice  of  them 
will  be  the  surest  way  to  consign  them  to  oblivion.  I  have  en- 
ilurcd  so  much  pain  the  last  few  weeks  that  I  do  not  think  I 
shall  be  so  thoughtless  and  weak  in  a  hurry  again.  Will  you 
try  me  once  more  ?  " 

Astonished  and  touched,  far  more  than  he  was  ever  in  the 
habit  of  allowing  himself  to  feel,  much  less  to  display,  Mr.  Ha- 
milton had  some  difficulty  in  replying;  but  his  words  were 
even  more  than  satisfactory  to  his  son's  eager  heart,  for  he 
answered  earnestly  — 

"  Pray,  do  not  give  me  any  praise  for  my  courage,  papa  ;  1 
am  quite  sure,  if  it  had  not  been  for  mamma's  suggestion,  I 
never  could  have. done  it.  It  might  have  crossed  my  mind,  but 
I  fear  pride  would  not  have  permitted  me  to  listen  to  it ;  but 
when  mamma  put  the  case  before  me  as  she  did,  I  could  not 
prevent  my  conscience  from  feeling  the  truth  of  all  she  said, 
and  if  I  had  not  followed  her  advice,  I  should  have  been  more 
miserable  still.  Dearest  mother,"  he  continued,  as  he  turned 
with  even  more  than  his  usual  affection  to  receive  her  nightly 
embrace,  "  you  have  made  me  so  happy  !  how  can  I  thank 
you?" 

If  she  made- him  happy,  he  certainly  had  returned  the  bless- 
ing, for  Mrs.  Hamilton  had  seldom  felt  more  exquisite  pleasure 
than  she  did  at  that  moment;  and  her  little  Emmeline,  though 
she  could  not  quite  understand  all  her  mother's  feelings,  felt,  in 
her  way,  almost  as  glad. 

'•  Well,  Mrs.  Hamilton,  will  not  your  son's  words  confirm 
mine  ? "  said  Mr.  Grahame  trying  to  speak  cheerfully  when 
the  young  party  had  retired,  and  he  was  again  alone  w  th  hi? 
friends.  "  Can  he  go  far  wrong  with  such  a  friend  ?  " 

"  Indeed,  he  has  done  me  more  than  justice,  and  himself  n  tf 


HOME   INFLUENCE  13J) 

enough.  When  I  left  him,  I  had  scarcely  a  hope  that  my  very 
disagreeable  advice  would  be  followed  ;  besides,  Mr.  Grahame,'1 
«$he  added,  more  playfully,  "  it  was  not  from  disagreeing  with 
you  on  a  mother's  influence  that  my  look  reproached  you,  you 
know  well  enough  what  it  meant ;  and  I  still  say,  that  even 
now,  if  you  would  but  be  less  reserved  and  stern,  would  but 
see  Helen's  many  better  qualities,  as  clearly  as  you  do  her 
faults,  you  might  still  win  her  to  your  will  even  with  regard  to 
your  children." 

"  Not  now,  Mrs.  Hamilton,  it  is  too  late ;  but  you  have  no 
idea  how  your  look  transported  me  back  to  years  past,"  he 
added  evidently  resolved  to  change  the  subject,  "when  I  actu- 
ally almost  feared  to  approach  you.  Do  you  remember,  Ha- 
milton, when  I  told  you,  if  Miss  Manvers  had  a  fault,  she  was 
too  cold  ?  " 

"  I  shall  not  easily  forget  the  incidents  of  that  night,"  replied 
Mr.  Hamilton,  with  a  fond  glance  towards  his  wife.  "Pooi 
Eleanor,  when  her  conduct  that  evening  fell  under  my  lash,  I 
little  thought  her  orphan  children  would  be  living  under  my 
roof,  and  to  me  almost  like  my  own." 

"And  one  her  very  image,"  observed  Grahame.  "  Does 
either  resemble  her  in  mind  or  disposition?" 

"  Edward  almost  as  much  in  mind  as  in  personal  beauty,"  re- 
plied Mrs.  Hamilton.  "  But  not  in  all  points  of  his  disposition. 
Ellen  does  not  resemble  her  poor  mother  in  any  thing." 

"  Is  she  like  her  father  ?  " 

"I  did  not  know  him  sufficiently  to  judge,  but  I  fancy  not. — 
In  fact,  I  hardly  yet  understand  Ellen." 

"  Indeed ! "  answered  Grahame,  smiling ;  "  is  your  penetrative 
genius  here  at  fault?" 

"  I  fear  it  is,"  she  answered,  in  the  same  tone ;  "  Ellen  is  my 
youngest  child  —  and  that  which  has  been  my  successful  help 
live  times,  has  become  blunted  at  the  sixth,  and  refuses  to  aid 
me  further." 

"  Grahame,  do  not  heed  her,"  interposed  her  husband,  laugh- 
ing; "she  fancies  there  is  something  extraordinary  about  Ellen, 
wliich  she  cannot  comprehend ;  and  I  feel  certain  that  imagina- 
tion has  been  playing  with  my  wife's  sober  judgment,  and  that 
our  little  niece  is  a  very  ordinary  child,  only  rather  more  sad 
and  quiet  than  is  usual  at  her  age,  which  may  be  easily  ac- 
counted for  by  her  early  trials  and  constant  ill-health.  Sol 
solve  what  my  wife  pronounces  a  mystery.  She  ha?  so  few 
fancies,  however,  that  I  do  not  quarrel  with  this,  for  i'  has  aU 
(he  charm  of  novelty." 


13  HOME    INFLUENCE. 

There  were  more  than  usual  subjects  of  thougnt  un  ,he 
of  all  the  young  inmates  of  Oakwood,  before  they  went  to  sleep 
that  night.  Percy's,  Herbert's,  and  Emmeline's  were  all  pecu- 
liarly happy  and  peaceful.  Caroline's  were  not  so  agreeable. 
Praise  lavished  on  others  never  gave  her  pleasure :  the  ques- 
tion would  always  come,  Why  did  she  not  receive  it  too?  It 
was  very  hard  that  she  so  seldom  received  it,  and  self-love  was 
always  ready  to  accuse  her  parents  of  some  degree  of  partiality, 
rather  than  herself  of  unworthiness.  "  But  these  thoughts  only 
(•ame  when  she  was  alone ;  the  moment  she  heard  her  father's 
vojce,  or  met  her  mother's  smile,  they  fled  from  her  till  they 
were  pertinaciously  recalled. 

Ellen  thought  mostly  of  Herbert.  She  had  been  as  curious 
as  the  rest  to  know  where  he  had  been,  though  she  had  not  saiO 
PO  much  about  it.  But  that  it  was  for  some  good,  kind  deed 
she  had  never  doubted. 

"  No  wonder  Mary  loves  him  so  much,"  she  said  internally : 
"but  how  can  I  ever  hope  he  will  love  one  so  often  naughty  as 
I  am.  If  Edward  be  so  much  superior,  what  must  Herbert 
be  ?  How  I  wish  I  were  his  sister,  and  then  he  would  love  me, 
deserving  or  not." 

That  poor  Ellen  was  often  thought,  as  she  expressed  it, 
"naughty"  was  true;  and  it  was  this  mingling  of  many  appa- 
rent faults,  especially  disregard  to  her  aunt's  commands,  and 
but  too  often  endeavor  to  conceal  and  equivocate,  instead  of  an 
open  confession,  with  a  sorrow  and  repentance  too  deep  and 
painful  for  her  years,  that  so  fairly  bewildered  Mrs.  Hamilton, 
and  really,  as  she  had  told  Mr.  Grahame,  prevented  her  from 
understanding  Ellen.  If  she  could  but  have  known  of  that  un- 
fortunate promise,  and  the  strong  hold  it  had  taken  of  the  child's 
vived  imagination;  that  by  dwelling  on  it  she  had  actually 
made  herself  believe  that,  by  always  shielding  Edward  from 
blame  or  punishment,  she  was  obeying  and  making  her  mother 
love  her  from  heaven,  and  so,  still  more  deepening  her  father's 
affection  for  her;  and  that  this  idea  enabled  her  to  bear  the 
suffering  of  that  most  painful  of  all  punishments,  her  aunt's  dis- 
pleasure, Mrs.  Hamilton  would  have  left  no  means  untried  to 
remove  such  a  mistaken  impression,  and  no  doubt  would  have 
succeeded ;  but  she  had  not  the  slightest  conception  of  the  real 
origin  of  her  niece's  incomprehensible  contradictions.  She  had 
believed  and  hoped  the  influences  of  her  earlier  life  would  dis- 
appear before  the  quiet,  wholesome  routine  of  the  present,  and 
often  and  often  she  found  herself  fearing  that  it  could  not  be 
only  maternal  neglect,  but  actual  disposition,  at  fault.  When 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  135 

cui.pinceo  of  the  great  importance  of  truth,  Ellen  t.  equertly, 
instead  of  attempting  to  conceal  what  Edward  might  have  hoed- 
lessly  done,  actually  took  it  upon  herself,  not  being  able  to  de- 
fine that  in  such  self-sacrifice  she  was  also  forfeiting  truth ;  or, 
if  she  did  believe  so,  it  was  also  clear,  that  to  tell  the  real  truth 
to  her  aunt  and  betray  Edward,  was  breaking  her  solemn  pro- 
mise to  her  mother ;  and,  either  way,  she  was  doing  wrong.  To 
describe  or  define  the  chaos  in  the  poor  child's  mind,  from  these 
contending  feelings,  would  be  almost  as  impossible  to  us  as  it 
was  to  herself.  She  only  knew  that  she  was  often  naughty 
when  she  most  wished  to  be  good ;  that  her  aunt  must  think  she 
did  not  care  for  her  displeasure ;  when  it  made  her  so  very  un- 
happy, that  she  was  scarcely  ever  in  disgrace  without  being  ill. 
That  she  never  could  feel  happy,  for  even  when  "good"  there 
always  seemed  a  weight  hanging  over  her,  and  therefore,  she 
must  be  different  to,  and  worse  than  anybody  else.  Little  do 
mere  superficial  observers  know  the  capabilities  for  joy  or  suf- 
fering in  a  young  child's  heart,  the  exquisitely  tender  germ 
which  is  committed  to  us ;  the  awful  responsibility  which  lies  in 
the  hands  of  adults,  for  the  joy  or  grief,  good  or  evil,  as  the 
portion  of  a  child !  Happily  for  Ellen,  Mrs.  Hamilton's  love 
was  as  inexhaustible  as  her  patience,  or  her  niece  might  have 
been  still  more  unhappy,  for  few  would  have  so  understood  and 
practised  the  delicate  and  difficult  task  of  constantly  being  call- 
ed upon  to  correct,  and  yet  to  love. 

Our  young  readers  must  not  think  Edward  very  cowardly 
and  very  dishonorable,  always  to  let  his  sister  bear  the  penalty 
of  his  faults.  He  had  never  been  taught,  and  therefore  could 
not  understand,  the  imperative  necessity,  when  guilty  of  heed- 
lessness  or  disobedience,  boldly  to  step  forward,  whether  others 
were  injured  or  not,  and  avow  it.  He  did  not  understand  how 
not  to  say  any  thing  about  it,  unless  he  was  asked,  could  be  a 
want  of  truth. 

It  was  also  Mrs.  Hamilton's  constant  custom  never  to  mention 
to  the  members  of  her  family,  who  might  have  been  absent  at 
the  time,  any  thing  of  fault  or  disgrace  which  had  fallen  under 
her  own  immediate  jurisdiction,  unless  their  nature  absolutely 
demanded  it ;  and  the  absence  of  the  young  offenders  from  the 
happy  family  circle,  either  at  meats  or  hours  of  recreation,  ,vhen 
such  an  unusual  proceeding  was  necessary,  in  consequence, 
lever  excited  any  remark,  but  a,  very  general  feeling  of  regret. 
Edward,  therefore,  scarcely  ever  heard  the  actual  cause  of  hia 
sister's  disgrace,  and  sometimes  did  not  even  know  she  had 
incurred  it.  He  did,  indeed,  when  she  was  sometimes  absent, 


I3fc'  HOME   INFLUENCE. 

feel  very  uncomfortable ;  but  his  immovable  awe  of  his  really 
indulgent  uncle  (an  impression  of  his  mother's  creating,  quite  as 
strong  as  Ellen's  idea  of  the  sanctity  of  her  promise)  caused  him 
to  adopt  every  means  of  removing  the  uncomfortable  conscious- 
ness that  he  was  far  more  to  blame  than  Ellen,  but  the  right 
one,  a  fearless  inquiry  as  to  why  she  was  punished,  and  an  open 
avowal  that  it  was  he  who  had  either  led  her  into  error,  or  was 
the  real  offender.  His  thoughts  on  Percy's  conduct  were  very 
different  to  those  of  his  cousins. 

"  No ! "  he  exclaimed,  almost  aloud,  in  the  energy  of  his  feel- 
ings, "  no  !  I  would  have  suffered  any  thing,  every  thing,  rather 
than  have  done  this  —  seek  Mr.  Morton,  humble  myself  by 
avowing  the  truth  to  him,  and  ask  his  pardon  for  a  mere  clever 
joke,  that  Percy  ought  to  have  been  proud  of,  instead  of  regret- 
ting !  If  I  did  not  know  him  well,  I  should  believe  him  a  craven 
milk-and-water  lad,  without  a  particle  of  the  right  spirit  writhin 
him.  What  could  have  possessed  him  ?  —  my  uncle's  look 
must  have  frightened  him  out  of  his  sober  senses :  to  be  sure 
it  was  very  terrible ;  poor  mamma  was,  indeed,  right  as  to  his 
unbending  sternness  ;  but  I  think  I  could  have  dared  even  his 
anger,  rather  than  beg  Mr.  Morton's  pardon,  when  there  really 
was  no  necessity."  And  sleep  overtook  him,  with  the  firm  con- 
viction resting  on  his  mind,  that  though  in  some  things  Percy 
might  be  his  equal,  yet  in  manliness  and  spirit,  he  (Edward) 
was  decidedly  the  superior. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

TEMPTATION  AND  DISOBEDIENCE. FEAR. FALSEHOOD  AND 

PUNISHMENT. 

IT  was  the  Christmas  vacation  —  always  a  happy  season  in 
the  halls  of  Oakwood.  The  previous  year,  the  general  juvenile 
party  with  which  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hamilton  indulged  their  child- 
ren on  the  first  or  sixth  of  January,  as  circumstances  permitted, 
had  not  taken  place  on  account  of  Mrs.  Fortescue's  death,  and 
was  therefore  this  year  anticipated  with  even  more  than  usual 
joy.  Caroline  and  Emmeline  were  never  permitted  to  go  to 
indiscriminate  parties.  Two  or  three,  really  confined  to  child 
ren,  the:i  mother  allowed  their  joining,  with  Miss  ITarcourt 


HOME  INFLUENCE.  137 

lu  the  course  of  the  year,  but  their  own  ball  was  always  con- 
sidered the  acme  of  enjoyment,  especially  now  that  Caroline 
began  to  fancy  herself  very  much  too  old  for  only  children's 
parties.  Annie  went  almost  everywhere  with  Lady  Helen, 
and  quite  laughed  at  the  idea  of  joining  children;  and  Caroline 
this  year  began  to  wish  most  intensely  that  her  mother  Avould 
take  her  out  to  grown-up  parties  too,  and  lost  all  relish  for  the 
pleasant  parties  she  had  enjoyed.  Mrs.  Hamilton  never 
obliged  her  to  go  out  with  Emmeline  and  Ellen,  if  she  really 
did  not  wish  it ;  but  Caroline  could  not  get  any  farther  in  con- 
sidering herself  a  woman. 

The  week  before  Christmas,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hamilton  did  not 
allow  to  be  all  holiday  and  'amusement.  The  season  was  to 
their  feelings  of  religion,  one  of  earnest,  intense  thankfulness, 
and  they  wished  to  make  it  equally  so  to  their  children  —  a 
source  of  joy  and  hope  indeed,  but  the  joy  and  hope  of  Heaven, 
not  the  mere  amusements  and  pleasures  of  earth.  They  had 
thought  long  and  tried  earnestly  to  make  their  children  so  to  love 
serious  things,  as  never  to  associate  them  with  gloom  or  sad- 
ness—  never  to  fancy  that  to  be  truly  and  spiritually  religious 
demanded  a  relinquishment  of  the  joys  and  pleasures  and  inno- 
cent happiness  of  their  age,  and  admirably  had  they  succeeded. 
Christmas  week  was  always  anticipated  with  quiet  gladness, 
for  they  were  still  more  with  their  father  and  mother ;  and  the 
few  serious  readings  and  lessons  they  had,  were  from  and  with 
them  alone ;  Miss  Harcourt's  time  was  then  entirely  her  own. 
As  soon  as  Christmas-day  was  passed,  the  young  party,  with 
the  sole  exception  of  two  hours'  work  by  themselves,  in  the 
morning  or  some  part  of  the  day  if  the  mornings  were  wanted 
—  (for  Mrs.  Hamilton  never  permited  all  duty  to  be  suspended, 
believing  —  and  her  children  had  experienced  the  wisdom  of 
the  belief  —  that  pleasure  and  recreation  were  infinitely  more 
enjoyable  after  the  performance  of  some  duty,  however  brief 
and  easy,  than  had  they  nothing  to  do  but  to  amuse  themselves 
all  day)  —  were  allowed  to  be  just  as  free,  happy,  and  noisy  as 
they  pleased ;  and  the  exuberance  of  their  innocent  happiness 
would  have  been  envied  by  many,  who  might  have  thought  the 
quiet  routine  of  their  usual  life  irksome  indeed. 

Edward  Fortescue  was  looking  forward  with  the  greatest 
delight  to  becoming  a  midshipman  in  the  course  of  the  following 
year.  He  hoped,  indeed,  it  would  be  in  a  very  few  months ; 
but  his  uncle  and  Mr.  Howard  had  only  told  hirn  to  work  on 
as  hard  as  he  could,  for  the  summons  might  come  for  him  to 
join  at  a  very  short  notice,  and  it  would  be  very  dreadful,  if 


l.'*8  HOiMfc   INFLUENCE. 

the  commission  should  be  refused  because  his  guardians  did  not 
tLilik  him  forward  enough  in  his  various  studies  to  leave  them. 
They  had  looked  very  mischievous  when  they  had  told  him 
this,  and  Edward  had  enjoyed  the  joke,  and  resolved  they 
should  not  have  any  such  amusement.  He  would  go  to  sea,  if 
he  worked  night  and  day  for  the  privilege  ;  and  he  really  did 
so  well,  that  his  uncle  gave  him  great  praise,  which  was  as  un- 
expected and  delightful  as  his  anger  was  terrible. 

It  happened  that  on  the  morning  after  Christmas-day,  Ed- 
ward and  Ellen  were  quite  alone  in  the  school-room  ;  the  for- 
mer was  in  one  of  his  most  impatient  moods,  for  at  his  own 
request,  his  uncle  was  to  examine  him  in  a  favorite  study,  and 
one  of  the  necessary  books  was  wanting.  He  had  read  it  a 
few  evenings  previous,  but  something  had  crossed  him,  and  in  a 
desperate  passion  he  had  flung  the  book  from  him,  and  where 
it  fell  he  neither  knew  nor  cared.  Caroline  and  Emmeline 
had  already  gone  on  an  expedition  to  some  poor  people,  with 
their  mother  ;  Ellen  had  asked  and  received  permission  to  put 
some  seeds  in  her  little  garden,  Percy  having  kindly  promised 
to  show  her  where,  and  to  do  some  harder  work  in  it  for  her.  He 
was,  however  still  engaged  with  his  father,  and  would  be,  he 
had  told  her,  for  perhaps  an  hour  longer,  but  he  would  be  sure 
to  come  to  her  then ;  and,  to  employ  the  interval,  she  had  in- 
tended to  work  hard  at  a  purse  she  was  making  for  him. 
Edward,  however,  entirely  engrossed  her,  and  for  nearly  half 
an  hour  they  hunted  in  every  nook  and  corner  of  the  room,  at 
length  — 

"  I  see  it !  I  see  it !  Edward,"  Ellen  exclaimed,  adding, 
however,  in  a  very  desponding  tone,  "  But  what  shall  we  do  ? 
we  cannot  get  it." 

"  Why  not  ? "  answered  Edward  impatiently  ;  where  is  it, 
Ellen?" 

"  Behind  that  stand  of  flowers,"  she  replied,  pointing  to  one 
that  filled  a  corner  of  the  room  and  which,  though  it  was  win- 
ter, was  filled  with  some  beautiful  flowering  geraniums  of  all 
colors,  and  some  few  rare  myrtles  in  full  flower. 

"  There  ! "  said  Edward  joyfully  ;  "  Oh,  that  is  very  easily 
moved  —  I  shall  get  it  in  a  minute." 

"  But  you  know  aunt  Emmeline  desired  us  not  to  touch  it," 
implored  Ellen,  clinging  to  his  arm  ;  "  and  the  flowers  are 
almost  all  Caroline's.  Dear  Edward  —  pray  do  not  move  it." 

"  Stuff  and  nonsense,  Ellen !  How  is  aunt  to  know  any 
thing  about  it  ?  and  what  do  I  care  about  the  flowers  being 
Caroline's ;  they  may  be  whose  they  like,  but  they  shall  no/ 
prevent  my  getting  my  book." 


HOME    INFLUENCE.  139 

'  But  it  will  be  disobeying  aunt,  Edward  —  j  ray,  pray; 
ion't;  you  know  how  displeased  she  was  with  Emneline  last 
week  for  a  much  more  trifling  disobedience  than  thus  will  be. 
And  if  any  thing  should  happen  to  the  flowers,  Caroline  will 
be  so  angry." 

"  And  what  do  I  care  for  Caroline's  anger,"  retorted  Edward, 
impatiently ;  "  My  uncle's  indeed  is  something  to  care  about, 
and  if  I  don't  get  my  book  and  go  to  him  directly,  I  shall  have 
it.  I  don't  like  to  disobey  aunt,  but  in  this  case  there  is  no  help 
for  it.  I  am  sure  I  can  reach  it  without  doing  any  harm ; 
besides,  I  must  get  my  book  —  I  cannot  do  without  it." 

"  Then  only  wait  till  aunt  comes  home,  or  at  least  let  me  ask 
uncle  if  we  may  move  it,  dear  Edward  ;  do  let  me  go  —  I  will 
not  be  a  minute." 

"And  so  betray  my  being  in  a  passion  the  other  day,  and 
get  me  a  reproof  for  that,  and  for  my  carelessness  into  the  bar- 
gain !  Nonsense,  Ellen  ;  I  will  get  it,  and  you  must  help  me, 
for  I  have  not  a  moment  to  lose." 

"  No,  Edward  !  indeed,  indeed,  I  cannot  touch  it,"  she  re- 
plied imploringly,  and  shrinking  back. 

"  Say,  rather,  you  wish  to  get  me  into  disgrace,  and  perhaps 
pi-evented  from  going  out  this  evening,  and  to-morrow,  and 
Friday  too  !  "  exclaimed  Edward,  irritated  beyond  all  forbear- 
ance ;  "  and  the  other  day  you  were  so  very  sorry  I  was  going 
from  home  so  soon  —  much  you  must  care  about  me,  that  you 
cannot  do  such  a  trifling  thing  as  this  to  oblige  me  !  I  hate 
deceit." 

Ellen  made  no  reply,  though  the  tears  started  to  her  eyes  ; 
but  as  usual  her  firmness  deserted  her.  The  heavy  stand  was 
carefully  moved  a  little  forward,  without  injuring  any  of  the 
plants ;  the  book  was  obtained,  and  at  that  moment  the  voice 
of  Percy  was  heard  exclaiming  — 

"  Edward !  Edward !  what  are  you  about  ?  papa  has  been 
expecting  you  the  last  half-hour ;  he  says  if  you  do  not  come 
directly,  you  will  not  have  time  to  do  all  you  wish  —  what  can 
you  be  about  ?  " 

Edward  did  not  wait  to  hear  much  more  than  his  name,  but 
darted  off,  leaving  his  sister  to  push  back  the  stand.  Ellen  felt 
almost  sure  she  could  not  do  it  by  herself ;  but  how  was  she  to 
act  ?  To  ask  assistance  would  not  only  be  confessing  her  own 
disobedience,  but  inculpating  her  brother,  and  really,  perhaps, 
deprive  him  of  the  enjoyments  he  anticipated,  and  so  confirm 
his  unkind  words.  She  tried  to  replace  it,  and  thought  s'ie  had 
^uite  succeeded  ;  but  as  she  moved  it,  one  of  the  my  ties  fell 


I -10  HOME   INFLUENCE. 

to  the  ground,  and  its  beautiful  blossom  hung  on  the  stall ,  pro- 
served  from  being  quite  broken  off  only  by  three  or  four  deli- 
cate fibres.  It  was  Caroline's  favorite  plant ;  one  she  so  che- 
rished and  tended,  that  Percy  called  it  her  petted  child  ;  and 
poor  Ellen  stood  paralyzed ;  she  raised  the  pot  mechanically, 
and  rested  the  broken  he?xl  of  the  flower  against  the  still  unin- 
jured sprig,  and  it  looked  so  well  and  natural,  that  the  thought 
for  a  moment  darted  across  her  mind  that  after  all  it  might  not 
be  discovered.  Then  came  all  her  aunt's  lessons  of  the  many 
ways  of  acting  an  untruth  without  words,  and,  therefore,  even 
if  it  should  not  be  discovered,  it  was  no  comfort ;  but  could 
she,  dared  she,  voluntarily  confess  what  must  appear  a  wilful 
disobedience  ?  If  her  aunt  had  been  at  home,  she  might  in 
that  first  moment  have  gained  the  necessary  courage  ;  but  she 
was  not  expected  back  for  two  or  three  hours,  and  Ellen  sat 
with  her  face  buried  in  her  hands,  only  conscious  of  misery,  till 
her  cousin's  joyous  voice  called  out  from  the  hall  — 

"  Come  along,  Nelly,  I  have  kept  you  long  enough ;  Tiny 
would  never  have  left  me  quiet  so  long  ;  but  there  is  no  tiring 
your  patience.  However,  I  will  make  up  for  it  now." 

And  glad  to  escape  from  her  own  thoughts,  she  hastily  col- 
lected the  various  seeds,  and  ran  after  him.  And  Percy  was 
so  active,  so  obliging,  so  amusing  in  his  queer  ways  of  working 
and  talking,  that  she  almost  forgot  the  impending  trial,  till  she 
met  her  aunt  and  cousins  at  luncheon.  Edward  had  been  so 
intent,  so  happy  at  his  business  with  his  uncle,  that  he  had  never 
cast  a  thought  as  to  how  the  stand  got  back ;  and  after  lunch 
he  had  to  go  for  a  row  on  the  river,  and  after  dinner  to  attend 
a  lecture  on  astronomy,  which,  that  night  and  the  one  following, 
was  to  be  given  in  the  Town-hall  in  T — .  His  uncle  and  Percy 
and  Herbert  were  to  accompany  him,  and  so,  that  he  should 
give  a  thought  to  any  thing  disagreeable,  was  not  likely. 

The  day  wore  on  ;  Ellen's  little  courage  had  all  gone,  and 
she  almost  unconsciously  hoped  that  nothing  would  be  disco* 
vered.  Mr.  Hamilton  and  the  lads  departed  at  six,  and  Mrs. 
Hamilton  proposed  adjourning  to  her  daughters'  room,  to  finish 
an  entertaining  book  that  they  were  reading  aloud.  She  had 
noticed,  with  her  usual  penetration,  that  all  day  Ellen  evidently 
shrunk  from  her  eye,  and  felt  quite  sure  something  was  wrong 
again  ;  but  she  asked  no  questions,  fearing  again  to  tempt 
equivocation.  Caroline's  passionate  exclamation  that  some- 
body had  broken  her  beautiful  flower,  drew  the  attention  of  all 
to  the  stand,  and  one  glance  sufficed  to  tell  Mrs.  Hamilton  that 
it  had  been  moved.  Her  anxious  suspicions  at  once  connected 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  141 

ihis  vi'ih  Ellen's  shrinking  manner,  and  she  turned  to  ask  her 
if  she  knew  any  thing  about  it.  But  Ellen  had  disappeared 
and  sl.e  rang  the  bell,  and  inquired  of  the  only  domestics  whose 
department  ever  led  them  into  the  room,  if  they  could  explain 
the  accident.  But  neither  of  them  could  ;  all  uniting  in  declar- 
ing, that  in  the  morning  the  myrtle  was  quite  perfect. 

"  Ellen  was  at  home,  mamma ;  she  must  know  something 
about  it.  Percy  said  they  did  not  begin  gardening  till  more 
than  an  hour  after  we  were  gone,"  exclaimed  Caroline,  whose 
temper  was  sorely  tried  by  this  downfall  of  ah1  her  cares.  "  I 
dare  say  she  did  it  herself  —  spiteful  thing  !  —  and  has  gone  to 
hide  herself  rather  than  confess  it —  it  is  just  like  her  !  " 

"  Stop,  Caroline,  do  not  condemn  till  you  are  quite  certain ; 
and  do  not  hi  your  anger  say  what  is  not  true.  Ellen  has  given 
no  evidence  as  yet  of  being  spiteful  or  mischievous.  Emme- 
line,  go  and  tell  your  cousin  that  I  want  her." 

The  « hild  obeyed.  Miss  Harcourt  had  continued  working 
most  industriously  at  the  table,  without  uttering  a  Avord,  though 
Mrs.  Hamilton's  countenance  expressed  such  unusual  perplexity 
and  pain,  that  it  would  have  seemed  kinder  to  have  spoken. 
One  look  at  Ellen  convinced  her  aunt,  and  she  actually  paused 
before  she  spoke,  dreading  the  reply  almost  as  much  as  the 
child  did  the  question.  It  was  scarcely  audible  ;  it  might  have 
been  denial,  it  certainly  was  not  affirmative,  for  Miss  Harcourt 
instantly  exclaimed  — 

"  Ellen,  how  can  you  tell  such  a  deliberate  falsehood  ?  I 
would  not  tell  your  aunt,  for  I  really  wished  you  to  have  the 
opportunity  of  in  some  degree  redeeming  your  disobedience ; 
but  I  saw  you  move  back  the  stand,  and  your  sinful  attempt  at 
concealment  by  replacing  the  broken  flower  —  and  now  you 
dare  deny  it  ?  " 

"  I  did  not  replace  the  flower  with  the  intention  of  concealing 
it,"  exclaimed  Ellen,  bursting  into  tears ;  for  that  one  unjust 
charge  seemed  to  give  back  the  power  of  speech,  though  the 
violent  reproach  and  invective  which  burst  from  Caroline  pre- 
vented any  thing  further. 

"  I  must  beg  you  to  be  silent,  Caroline,  or  to  leave  the  room, 
till  I  have  done  speaking  to  your  cousin,"  said  her  mother, 
quietly  ;  "  the  fate  of  your  flower  seems  to  make  you  forget 
ihat  I  have  never  yet  permitted  disrespect  or  any  display  of 
.emper  in  my  presence." 

"  But  what  right  had  Ellen  to  touch  the  stand?  " 

"  None  —  she  has  both  disobeyed  and  again  tried  to  deceivfi 
me  ;  faults  which  il  is  my  duty  to  chastise,  but  not  yours  to  ur- 


'42  HOME    INFLUENCE. 

I)  raid.  Answer  me,  Ellen,  at  once  and  briefly ;  your  fault  is 
known,  and,  therefore,  all  further  equivocation  is  useless.  Did 
you  move  that  flower-stand  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  child,  almost  choked  with  sobs,  called 
forth  the  more  from  the  contrast  which  her  aunt's  mildness 
presented  to  Miss  Harcourt's  harshness,  and  Caroline's  violent 
anger,  and  from  the  painful  longing  to  say  that  her  first  dis- 
obedience was  not  entirely  her  own  fault. 

"  Did  you  remember  that  I  had  expressly  forbidden  either 
of  you  to  attempt  to  move  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  Ellen  again,  an  exclamation  at  the  apparent 
hardihood  of  her  conduct  escaped  from  both  Miss  Harcourt  and 
Caroline. 

"  And  yet  you  persisted,  Ellen  ;  this  is  indeed  a  strange  con- 
tradiujtion  to  your  seemingly  sincere  sorrow  for  a  similar  fault 
a  few  months  back.  What  did  you  move  it  for  ?  " 

For  full  a  minute  Ellen  hesitated,  thus  unhappily  confirming 
the  suspicion  that  when  she  did  reply  it  was  another  equivo- 
cation 

"  To  get  a  book  which  had  fallen  behind." 

"  I  do  not  know  how  a  book  could  have  fallen  behind,  unless 
it  had  been  put  or  thrown  there,  Ellen ;  you  said,  too,  that  you 
did  not  replace  the  broken  flower  for  the  purpose  of  conceal- 
ment. I  hardly  know  how  to  believe  either  of  these  assertions. 
Why  did  you  leave  the  room  just  now  ?  " 

"  Because  —  because  —  I  knew  you  would  question  me, 
and  —  and  —  I  felt  I  should  not  have  courage  to  speak  the 
truth  —  and  I  knew  —  you  would  be  so  —  so  displeased." 
The  words  were  scarcely  articulate. 

"  I  should  have  been  better  satisfied,  Ellen,  if  your  fear  of 
my  displeasure  had  prevented  the  committal  of  your  first  fault, 
not  to  aggravate  it  so  sinfully  by  both  acted  and  spoken  un- 
truths. Painful  as  it  is  to  me  in  this  season  of  festivity  and 
enjoyment  to  inflict  suffering,  I  should  share  your  sin  if  I  did 
not  adopt  some  measures  to  endeavor  at  least  to  make  you  re- 
member and  so  avoid  it  in  future.  I  have  told  you  so  very 
often  that  it  is  not  me  you  mostly  offend  when  you  speak  or 
act  falsely,  but  God  himself — who  is  Truth  —  that  I  fear 
words  alone  will  be  of  no  avail.  Go  to  your  own  room,  Ellen ; 
pjrhaps  solitude  and  thought,  when  your  brother  and  cousins 
are  so  happy  and  unrestrained,  may  bring  you  to  a  sense  of 
your  aggravated  misconduct  better  than  any  thing  else.  You 
will  not  leave  your  apartment,  except  for  the  hours  of  devotion 
and  exercise  —  which  you  will  take  with  Ellis,  not  with  me  — 


HOME  INFLUENCE  143 

till  1  think  you  have  had  sufficient  time  to  reflect  on  all  I  have 
said  to  yxi  on  this  subject." 

Ellen  quitted  the  room  without  answering;  but  it  was  se- 
veral minutes  before  Mrs.  Hamilton  could  sufficiently  conquer 
the  very  painful  feelings  which  her  niece's  conduct  and  her  own 
compelled  severity  excited,  to  enter  into  her  daughters'  amuse- 
ments ;  but  she  would  not  punish  them  for  the  misconduct 
of  another;  and,  by  her  exertions,  temper  to  Caroline,  and 
cheerfulness  to  Emmeline  (whose  tears  of  sympathy  had  al- 
most kept  peace  with  Ellen's  of  sorrow,)  gradually  returned, 
and  their  book  became  as  delightful  a  recreation  as  it  had  been 
before. 

Great  was  Edward's  grief  and  consternation  when  he  found 
the  effects  of  what  was  actually  in  the  first  instance  his  fault ; 
but  he  had  not  sufficient  boldness  to  say  so.  His  aunt  had  ex- 
pressly said  it  was  the  untruth  that  had  occasioned  her  greatest 
displeasure  ;  that  if  the  disobedience  had  been  confessed  at  once, 
she  would,  in  consideration  of  the  season,  have  forgiven  it  with 
a  very  slight  rebuke.  "Now,"  he  thought,  "it  is  only  the  dis- 
obedience in  which  I  am  concerned,  and  if  I  confess  it  was 
mostly  my  fault,  it  won't  help  Ellen  in  the  least  —  so  what  is 
the  use  of  my  acknowledging  it  ?  Of  course,  if  she  wishes  it,  I 
will;  but  how  could  she  tell  such  a  deliberate  story?" 

That  he  was  acting  one  of  equal  deliberation,  and  of  far 
more  culpability,  if  possible  —  for  he  was  permitting  her  to  bear 
the  whole  weight  of  his  fault  —  never  struck  him;  if  it  did,  he 
did  not  at  all  understand  or  believe  it.  He  went  to  his  sister, 
and  offered  to  confess  his  share  in  her  fault,  and  when  —  as  he 
fully  expected  —  she  begged  him  not,  that  it  could  do  her  no 
good,  and  perhaps  only  get  him  punished  too,  his  conscience 
was  so  perfectly  satisfied,  that  he  actually  took  upon  himself  to 
ask  her  how  she  could  be  so  foolish  and  wrong  as,  when  she 
was  asked,  not  to  allow  that  she  had  moved  it  at  once  — 

"It  would  have  been  all  right,  then,"  he  said;  and  added, 
almost  with  irritation,  "  and  I  should  not  have  been  teased  with 
the  thought  of  your  being  in  disgrace  just  now,  when  I  wanted 
so  much  to  enjoy  myself." 

"  Do  not  think  about  me,  then,  Edward,"  was  his  sister's 
reply ;  "  I  know  the  untruth  is  entirely  my  own  fault,  so  why 
sLo-.ild  it  torment  you;  if  I  could  but  always  tell  and  act  the 
truth,  and  not  be  so  very,  very  frightened  —  oh,  how  I  wonder 
if  I  ever  shall!"  and  she  leaned  her  head  on  her  arms,  which 
rested  on  the  table,  so  despondingly,  so  sorrowfully,  that  Ed- 
ward fe't  too  uncomfortable  to  remain  with  her.  He  was  sails- 


U4  HOME    INFLUENCE. 

tied  that  he  could  not  help  her;  but  the  disagreeable  thought 
would  come,  that  if  he  had  not  tempted  her  to  disobey,  she 
would  have  had  no  temptation  to  tell  an  untruth,  and  so  he 
sought  a  variety  of  active  amusements  to  get  rid  of  the  feeling. 
The  continuation  of  the  entertaining  astronomical  lecture,  too, 
was  so  very  delightful,  and  Thursday  and  Friday  morning 
brought  so  many  enjoyments,  that  he  almost  forgot  her,  till 
startled  back  into  self-reproach  by  finding  that  she  was  not  to 
accompany  them  on  Friday  evening  to  Mr.  Howard's,  whose 
jjreat  pleasure  was  to  collect  young  people  around  him,  and 
whose  soiree  in  the  Christmas  holidays,  and  whose  day  in  the 
country  at  midsummer,  were  anticipated  by  girls  and  boys, 
great  and  small,  with  such  delight  as  to  pervade  the  whole  year 
round.  Caroline  never  refused  to  join  Mr.  Howard's  parties, 
though  they  were  "juvenile ; "  and  Percy  always  declared  they 
were  as  unlike  any  other  person's  as  Mr.  Howard  was  unlike  a 
schoolmaster.  Ellen  had  so  enjoyed  the  day  in  the  country, 
that,  timid  as  she  was,  she  had  looked  forward  to  Friday  with 
almost  as  much  delight  as  Emmeline. 

In  vain  Emmeline,  Edward,  Percy,  Herbert,  and  even  Mr. 
Hamilton  entreated,  that  she  might  be  permitted  to  go.  Mrs. 
Hamilton's  own  kind  heart  pleaded  quite  as  strongly,  but  she 
remained  firm. 

"  Do  not  ask  me,  my  dear  children,"  she  said,  almost  as  be- 
seechingly as  they  had  implored;  "I  do  assure  you  it  is  quite 
as  much,  if  not  more  pain  to  me  on  this  occasion  to  refuse,  as  it 
is  for  you  all  to  be  refused.  If  it  were  the  first,  second,  or  even 
third  time  that  Ellen  had  disregarded  truth,  I  would  yield  for 
your  sakes ;  and  in  the  hope  that  the  indulgence  would  produce 
as  good  an  effect  as  continued  severity ;  but  I  cannot  hope  this 
now.  The  habit,  is,  I  fear,  so  deeply  rooted,  that  nothing  but 
firmness  in  inflicting  pain,  whenever  it  is  committed,  will  suc- 
ceed in  eradicating  it.  God  grant  I  may  remove  it  at  last." 

The  tone  and  words  were  so  earnest,  so  sad,  that  not  only 
did  her  children  cease  in  their  intercession,  but  all  felt  still  more 
forcibly  the  solemn  importance  of  the  virtue,  in  which  Ellen 
had  so  failed,  from  the  effect  of  her  conduct  upon  their  mother. 
She  was  always  grieved  when  they  had  done  wrong,  but  they 
never  remembered  seeing  her  so  very  sad  as  now.  Edward, 
indeed,  could  scarcely  understand  this  as  his  cousins  did  ;  but 
as  his  aunt  still  only  alluded  to  the  untruth,  the  qualm  of  con- 
•ience  was  again  silenced,  for  he  had  only  caused  the  disobedi- 
ence. Emmeline  asked  timidly  if  she  might  remain  with  Ellen, 
*nd  Edward  followed  her  example,  thinking  himself  very  mag 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  145 

nanimous  in  so  doing  ;  but  both  were  refused  —  and  surely  ho 
had  done  enough ! 

All  went  —  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hamilton  and  Miss  Harcourt,  as 
well  as  the  young  people  ;  and  it  was  such  a  happy  evening  ! 
First,  there  was  the  orrery,  that  Mr.  Howard  had  prevailed 
on  the  lecturer  to  display  first  at  his  house,  and  Edward  was 
almost  wild  in  his  delight ;  and  then  there  were  some  games 
and  intellectual  puzzles,  that  made  them  all  think,  as  well  as 
enjoy ;  and  then  there  were  some  music  and  singing  and  danc- 
ing, and  every  thing  was  so  quiet  and  orderly,  and  yet  so  full 
of  youthful  enjoyment,  that  it  was  not  much  wonder  there  was 
no  longer  any  room  for  a  sorrowful  thought,  in  any  of  the  young 
party  from  Oakwood.  Mrs.  Hamilton  alone  thought  of  Ellen, 
and  again  and  again  accused  herself  oi  too  great  harshness 
for,  perhaps,  after  all,  it  might  have  no  better  effect  than  kind- 
ness ;  but  what  could  she  do  ?  She  almost  envied  the  quiet, 
unruffled  unconcern  of  less  anxious  guardians  ;  but  for  her  to 
feel  indifferent  to  her  responsibility  was  impossible.  Ellen  was 
so  often  unwell  that  her  absence  did  not  occasion  so  much  re- 
mark as  her  brother's  or  either  of  her  cousins'  would.  "  Mam- 
ma did  not  wish  her  to  come,"  was  the  answer  she  had  desired 
the  children  to  give  to  any  inquiries,  and  her  character  for  in- 
dulgence was  so  generally  known,  that  no  one  suspected  any 
thing  more  than  indisposition.  Annie  Grahame's  dislike  to 
Ellen  might  have  made  her  more  suspicious,  but  she  was  not 
there.  Cecil  and  Lilla  were,  with  their  father,  but  Miss  Gra- 
hame  did  not  condescend  to  attend  Mr.  Howard's  "juvenile" 
parties  ;  and  Caroline,  though  she  would  not  have  allowed  it, 
even  to  herself,  was  both  happier,  and  much  more  inclined  to 
enjoy  herself,  with  the  amusements  and  society  offered  to  her 
when  Annie  was  not  at  a  party,  than  when  she  was. 

The  next  night,  to  Ellen's  disposition,  was  a  greater  trial 
than  the  Friday.  She  neither  expected,  nor  hardly  wished  to 
be  allowed  to  go  to  Mr.  Howard's,  though,  as  the  affectionate 
Emmeline  had  come  to  wish  her  good  night,  and  with  tears  in 
her  eyes  repeated  the  regrets  that  she  was  not  to  go,  she  felt 
the  bitter  disappointment  more  than  in  the  morning  she  had 
thought  possible ;  but  Saturday  night  it  had  been  her  aunt's 
custom,  from  the  time  she  had  been  at  Oakwood,  to  visit  her 
daughters  and  niece  before  they  went  to  sleep,  and  prepare 
them  for  the  Sabbath's  rest  and  enjoyment,  by  an  examination 
of  their  conduct  during  the  past  week,  and  full  forgiveness  of 
any  thing  that  had  been  wrong.  When  younger,  Mrs.  Hamil 
toe.  had  attended  io  this  duty  every  night ;  but  wishing  to  give 


146  HOME  INFLUENCE. 

them  a  habit  of  private  prayer  and  self-examination,  indep  end- 
ent  of  her,  she  had,  after  Emmeline  was  twelve  years  old,  set 
apart  the  Saturday  night,  until  they  were  fifteen  —  old  enough 
for  her  to  relinquish  it  altogether.  It  had  been  such  a  habit 
with  her  own  children,  that  they  felt  it  perfectly  natural ;  but 
with  Ellen  and  Edward,  from  their  never  having  been  accus- 
tomed to  it  as  young  children,  she  had  never  felt  the  duty  un- 
derstood by  them,  or  as  satisfactorily  performed  by  herself  as 
with  her  own.  Still,  Ellen  looked  forward  to  this  night  as  the 
termination  of  her  banishment ;  for  great  indeed  was  the  of- 
fence whose  correction  extended  over  the  Sabbath.  Ellen  could 
not  remember  one  instance  since  she  had  been  at  Oakwood, 
when  she  heard  the  doors  of  her  cousins'  rooms  successively 
close,  and  her  aunt's  step  retreating,  without  approaching  hers, 
and  she  did,  indeed,  believe  herself  irreoiaimably  wicked,  or  her 
kind,  good  aunt,  would,  at  least,  have  come  to  her.  Mrs.  Ha- 
milton had  purposely  refrained  from  indulging  her  own  inclina- 
tions, as  well  as  comforting  Ellen,  hoping  still  more  to  impress 
upon  her  how  greatly  she  had  sinned.  The  impossibility  of 
her  perfectly  comprehending  her  niece's  character,  while  the 
poor  child  felt  it  such  a  sacred  duty  to  victimize  herself,  made 
her  far  more  severe  than  she  would  have  been,  could  she  have 
known  her  real  disposition  ;  but  how  was  it  possible  she  could 
believe  Ellen's  grief  as  deep  and  remorseful  as  it  seemed,  when 
a  short  time  afterward  she  would  commit  the  same  faults  ? 
Her  task  was  infinitely  more  difficult  and  perplexing  than  less 
anxious  mothers  can  have  the  least  idea  of. 


CHAPTER    X. 

PAIN     AND     PENITENCE. TRUTH     IMPRESSED,     AND     RECON 

CILIATION. THE    FAMILY  .TREE. 

Lv  feverish  dreams  of  her  parents,  recalling  both  their  deaths, 
tind  with  alternate  wakefulness,  fraught  with  those  deadly  in- 
comprehensible terrors  which  some  poor  children  of  strong 
imagination  know  so  well,  Ellen's  night  passed ;  and  the  next 
morning  she  rose,  with  that  painful  throbbing  in  her  throat  and 
temples,  which  always  ended  with  one  of  those  intense  and 
exhausting  headaches  to  which  she  had  been  so  subject,  1ml 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  147 

which  her  aunt's  care  and  Mr.  Maitland's  remedies  had  much 
decreased,  both  in  frequency  and  violence.  She  went  to  church, 
however,  with  the  family,  as  usual. 

"  Remain  out,  Edward ! "  Percy  exclaimed,  as  they  neared 
the  house ;  "  the  old  year  is  taking  leave  of  us  in  such  a  glo- 
rious mood,  that  Tiny  and  I  are  going  to  ruralize  and  poetize 
till  dinner  —  will  you  come  with  us  ?  —  and  you,  Ellen  ?  " 

Ellen  withdrew  her  arm  from  her  brother's,  saying,  as  she 
lid  so  — 

u  Go,  dear  Edward,  I  am  very  tired,  and  would  rather  not." 

"  Tired,  and  with  this  short  walk ;  and  you  really  do  look  as 
if  you  were  —  what  is  the  matter,  Ellen  ?  you  are  not  well." 

His  sister  did  not  reply,  but  shrinking  from  the  look  which 
Mrs.  Hamilton,  who  was  passing  at  the  moment,  fixed  earnestly 
upon  her,  she  ran  into  the  house. 

Edward  again  felt  uncomfortable ;  in  fact,  he  had  done  so, 
so  often  since  the  Tuesday  morning,  that  his  temper  was  not 
half  so  good  as  usual.  He  did  not  choose  to  acknowledge, 
even  to  himself,  that  the  uncomfortable  feeling  was  self- 
reproach,  and  so  he  vented  it  more  than  once  in  irritation 
against  Ellen,  declaring  it  was  so  disagreeable  she  should  be 
tii  disgrace  just  then. 

It  was  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hamilton's  custom  always  to  dine  on 
Sundays  at  half-past  one,  to  allow  those  of  their  household 
who  were  unable  to  attend  divine  service  in  the  morning  to  go 
in  the  afternoon.  With  regardxto  themselves  and  their  child- 
ren they  pursued  a  plan,  which  many  religionists  might,  per- 
haps, have  condemned,  and  yet  its  fruits  were  very  promising. 
Their  great  wish  was  to  make  the  Sabbath  a  day  of  love,  divine 
and  domestic ;  to  make  their  children  look  to  it  with  joy  and 
anticipation  throughout  the  week  as  a  day  quite  distinct  in  its 
enjoyment  from  any  other;  and  for  this  reason,  while  their 
children  were  young,  they  only  went  to  church  in  the  morning, 
the  afternoons  were  devoted  to  teaching  them  to  know  and 
to  love  God  in  His  works  as  well  as  Word,  and  their  evenings 
to  such  quiet  but  happy  amusements  and  literature,  as  would 
lill  their  young  hearts  with  increased  thankfulness  for  their 
very  happy  lot.  As  they  grew  older,  they  were  perfectly  at 
liberty  to  do  as  they  pleased  with  regard  to  the  afternoon 
church.  Herbert,  whose  ardent  desire  to  enter  the  ministry 
increased  with  his  years,  generally  spent  the  greater  part  of 
Sunday  with  Mr.  Howard,  with  his  parents'  glad  and  full  con- 
sent. The  contemplation  of  serious  things  was  his  greatest 
happiness,  but  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hamilton  did  not  expect  that  all 


143  HOME    INFLUENCE. 

their  other  children  were  to  be  like  him.  They  were  con- 
tented, and  intensely  thankful  also,  to  perceive  that  diverge  na 
were  their  characters,  still  the  constant  sense  of  God's  presence 
and  of  His  infinite  love  was  active  and  earnest  in  them  all, 
inciting  love  and  reverence  for  Herbert,  even  though  they 
could  not  sympathize  with  him  entirely.  Another  peculiarity 
of  Mr.  Hamilton  consisted  in  his  permitting  no  Sunday  schools 
at  Aveling  and  his  other  villages.  The  Saturday  afternoons 
were  set  apart  instead  of  the  Sunday.  Pie  wished  his  wife 
and  daughters,  when  they  were  old  enough,  to  superintend 
them,  and  help  the  children  in  preparing  for  the  Sunday  ser- 
vices and  Sunday  enjoyments ;  but  he  particularly  disliked 
the  system  of  overwork  on  a  day  of  rest,  which  could  not  fail 
to  be  the  case,  if  there  were  schools  to  attend  to  twice  or  three 
times  a  day,  as  well  as  church. 

It  being  the  last  day  of  the  old  year,  Mr.  Howard  had  ex- 
pressed a  wish  that  Percy  and  Edward  as  well  as  Herbert 
should  attend  church  that  afternoon,  and  the  lads,  without  -the 
least  reluctance,  consented ;  Mr.  Hamilton  and  Miss  Harcourt 
were  going  too,  and  Caroline  and  Emmeline,  of  their  own 
accord,  asked  permission  to  accompany  them.  Ellen's  pale, 
suffering  face  had  so  haunted  her  aunt,  that  she  could  not  think 
of  any  thing  else,  and  remained  for  a  very  much  longer  time 
than  was  usual  to  her  character  in  a  state  of  indecision.  The 
next  night  was  her  children's  ball,  and  it  was,  too,  the  first  day 
of  the  new  year  —  always  in  her  happy  circle  a  festival  of  joy 
and  thankfulness.  Ellen's  face  certainly  looked  as  if  she  had 
suffered  quite  enough  to  prevent  the  recurrence  of  her  fault, 
but  so  it  had  always  done,  and  yet,  before  she  could  possibly 
have  forgotten  its  consequences,  she  failed  again.  Mrs.  Pla- 
milton  sat  for  some  time,  after  her  children  had  left  her,  in 
meditation,  trying  to  silence  the  pleadings  of  affection,  and 
listen  only  to  reason,  as  to  whether  continued  severity  or 
returning  kindness  would  be  the  more  effective,  and  save  both 
Ellen  and  herself  any  further  pain. 

To  the  child  herself  physical  suffering  was  so  increasing  as 
gradually  to  deaden  mental,  till  at  last  it  became  so  severe, 
that  she  felt  sick  and  fuint.  She  knew  the  medicine  she  was 
in  the  habit  of  taking  when  similarly  suffering,  and  the  lotion 
which  her  aunt  applied  to  her  forehead,  and  which  always 
succeeded  in  removing  the  excessive  throbbing,  were  both  in 
Mrs.  Hamilton's  dressing-room  ;  but  it  seemed  quite  impossible 
that  she  could  get  at  them,  for  she  did  not  like  to  leave  her 
room  without  permission,  nor  did  she  feel  as  if  she  could  walk 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  M9 

so  far,  her  bead  throbbing  with  increased  violence  with  every 
step  she  took.  At  length  she  summoned  sufficient  courage  to 
ring  the  bell,  and  beg  Fanny  to  ask  Ellis  to  come  to  her.  The 
girl,  who  had  been  already  dreadfully  concerned  that  Miss 
Ellen  had  eaten  no  dinner,  and  on  Sunday  too !  gave  such  an 
iccount  of  her,  that  the  housekeeper  hastened  to  her  directly, 
and  begged  her  to  let  her  go  for  her  mistress  —  it  was  so  lucky 
she  had  not  gone  to  church  —  but  Ellen  clung  to  her,  imploring 
her  not. 

"  Dear,  dear  Ellis,  get  me  the  medicine,  and  bathe  my  fore- 
head yourself ;  I  shall  get  well  then  in  an  hour  or  two,  without 
giving  my  aunt  any  trouble  :  pray,  pray,  don't  tell  her.  I 
scarcely  feel  the  pain  when  she  is  nursing  and  soothing  me  ; 
but  I  do  not  deserve  that  now,  and  I  am  afraid  I  never  shall." 

"  But  indeed,  Miss  Ellen,  she  will  be  displeased  if  I  do  not. 
Why,  only  the  other  morning  she  was  quite  concerned  that  I 
had  not  told  her  Jane  was  ill  directly,  and  went  herself  two  or 
three  times  every  day  to  see  she  had  every  thing  proper  and 
comfortable." 

"  But  that  is  quite  different,  dear  Ellis ;  do  get  the  lotion  ;  1 
feel  as  if  I  could  not  bear  this  pain  much  longer  without  cry- 
ing ;  you  can  tell  her  afterward,  if  you  think  you  ought." 

And  seeing  that  farther  argument  only  increased  the  poor 
child's  sufferings,  Ellis  promised,  and  left  her.  Ellen  leaned 
her  forehead  against  the  side  of  her  little  bed,  and  held  the  cur- 
tain tightly  clasped,  as  if  so  to  prevent  the  utterance  of  the  hys- 
teric sob  that  would  rise  in  her  throat,  though  she  did  not  know 
what  it  was.  But  the  wholly  unexpected  sound  of  Mrs.  Ha- 
milton's voice  saying,  close  by  her,  "  I  am  afraid  you  have  one 
of  your  very  bad  headaches,  Ellen,"  so  startled  her,  as  to  make 
her  raise  her  head  suddenly  ;  and  the  movement  caused  such 
agony,  that,  spite  of  all  her  efforts,  she  could  not  prevent  an 
almost  convulsive  cry  of  pain. 

"  My  dear  child  !  I  had  no  idea  of  pain  like  this  ;  why  did 
you  not  send  for  me  ?  We  have  always  prevented  its  becoming 
BO  very  violent  by  taking  it  in  time,  my  Ellen." 

"  Miss  Ellen  would  not  let  me  go  for  you,  madam,"  rejoined 
Ellis,  who,  to  her  mistress's  inexpressible  relief,  was  close  at 
hand  with  the  remedies  she  wanted,  and  she  repeated  what  the 
child  had  said. 

"  Again  your  old  mistake,  Ellen.     I  would  so  much,  so  very 

much  rather  hear  you   say  you  were  resolved  to  deserve  my 

love,  than  that  you  did  not  merit  it.     Why  should  you  noi 

leserve  it  as  well   as   your  brother   and  Cousins,  if  you  dofe  • 

8 


150  HOME   INFLUENCE. 

aiinud  with  all  your  heart  to  try  and  not  do  any  thing  to  lesset 
it  ?  Nothing  is  so  likely  to  prevent  your  even  endeavoring  u 
deserve  it,  as  the  mistaken  fancy  that  you  never  shall ;  but  you 
are  too  unwell  to  listen  to  me  now ;  we  must  try  all  we  can  to 
remove  this  terrible  pain,  and  then  see  if  we  can  bring  back 
happiness  too." 

And  for  above  an  hour  did  Mrs.  Hamilton,  with  the  most 
patient  tenderness,  apply  the  usual  remedies,  cheered  by  find- 
ing that,  though  much  more  slowly  than  usual,  still  by  degree* 
the  violence  of  the  pain  did  subside,  and  the  hysterical  affecticu 
give  way  to  natural  and  quiet  tears.  Exhaustion  produced  a 
deep  though  not  very  long  sleep,  and  after  watching  her  sorne 
few  minutes  very  anxiously,  Mrs.  Hamilton  sat  down  by  her 
bed,  and  half  unconsciously  drew  toward  her  Ellen's  little 
Bible,  which  lay  open  on  the  table,  as  if  it  had  been  only 
lately  used.  Several  loose  papers  were  between  the  leaves  ; 
her  eyes  filled  with  tears  as  she  read  on  one  of  them  a  little 
prayer,  touching  from  the  very  childishness  of  the  language 
and  imperfect  writing,  beseeching  her  Father  in  Heaven  in  His 
great  mercy  to  forgive  her  sin,  and  give  her  courage  to  speak 
the  truth,  to  help  her  not  to  be  so  frightened,  but  to  guide  her 
in  her  difficult  path.  Mrs.  Hamilton  little  guessed  how  difficult 
it  was,  but  she  hoped  more  from  the  effects  of  her  present 
penitence  than  she  had  done  yet.  She  had  copied,  too,  several 
verses  from  the  various  parts  of  the  Old  and  New  Testament 
which  were  condemnatory  of  falsehood,  and  her  aunt  felt  no 
longer  undecided  as  to  her  course  of  action. 

"You  have  employed  your  solitary  hours  so  well,  my  dear 
Ellen,"  she  said,  as,  when  the  child  awoke  and  looked  anxiously 
toward  her  —  she  kissed  her  cheek  with  even  more  than  her 
usual  fondness  —  "  that  I  scarcely  require  your  assurance  of  re- 
pentance or  promises  of  amendment.  When  you  have  taken 
some  coffee,  and  think  you  are  well  enough  to  listen  to  me,  I 
will  read  you  an  illustration  of  the  fearful  sin  of  falsehood  from 
the  Old  Testament,  which  I  do  not  think  I  have  yet  pointed  out 
to  you.  Ananias  and  Sapphira,  I  see  you  remember." 

And  when  Ellen  had  taken  the  delicious  cup  of  coffee,  which 
her  aunt  had  ordered  should  be  ready  for  her  directly  she 
awoke,  and  sat  up,  though  her  head  was  still  so  weak  it  re- 
quired the  support  of  a  pillow,  yet  she  seemed  so  revived,  so 
almost  happy,  from  the  mesmeric  effect  of  that  warm,  fond  ki.ss, 
that  her  aunt  did  not  hesitate  to  continue  the  lesson  she  was  so 
anxious  to  impress,  while  the  mind  and  heart  were  soft/  nod  to 
receive  it.  She  turned  to  the  fourth  chapter  of  the  second  book 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  15 J 

of  Kings,  and  after  briefly  relating  the  story  of  Naaman  —  fo: 
?h  3  did  not  wish  to  divert  Ellen's  attention  from  the  one  import- 
ant subject,  by  giving  any  new  ideas  —  she  read  from  the  20tli 
perse  to  the  end,  and  so  brought  the  nature  of  Gehazi's  sin  and 
its  awful  punishment,  at  the  hand  of  God  himself  (for  the  pro- 
phet was  merely  an  instrument  of  the  Eternal,  he  had  no  power 
in  himself  to  call  the  disease  of  leprosy  on  his  servant)  to  El- 
len's mind,  that  she  never  forgot  it. 

"  Do  you  think  Elisha  knew  where  he  had  been,  and  what 
he  had  done,  before  he  asked  him?"  she  ventured  timidly  to 
inquire,  as  her  aunt  ceased;  "Gehazi  had  told  a  falsehood  al- 
ready to  Naaman.  Do  you  think  God  punished  that  or  his 
falsehood  to  Elisha?" 

"Most  probably  he  punished  both,  my  love.  Elisha  no  doubt 
knew  how  his  servant  had  been  employed  in  his  absence,  in  fact 
he  tells  him  so"  —  and  she  read  the  26th  verse  again  —  "but 
he  asked  him  whence  he  had  come,  to  give  him  an  opportunity 
for  a  full  confession  of  his  first  sin,  which  then,  no  doubt  would, 
after  some  slight  rebuke,  have  been  pardoned.  It  was  a  very 
great,  fault  at  first,  but  the  mercy  of  God  was  then,  as  it  is  now, 
so  infinite  so  forgiving,  that,  had  Elisha's  question  recalled 
Gehazi  to  a  sense  of  his  great  guilt  and  excited  real  repentance, 
his  punishment  would  have  been  averted.  But  his  aggravated 
and  repeated  falsehood  called  down  on  him  a  chastisement  most 
terrible  even  to  think  about.  Leprosy  was  not  merely  a  dread- 
ful disease  in  itself,  but  it  cut  him  off,  from  all  the  blessings  and 
joys  not  only  of  social  life  but  of  domestic ;  because,  as  God 
had  said  it  should  cleave  to  his  seed  as  well  as  to  himself,  he 
could  never  find  any  one  who  would  dare  to  love  him,  and  he 
must  have  been  compelled  to  lonely  misery  all  his  life." 

"It  was  a  very  dreadful  punishment,"  repeated  Ellen,  fear- 
fully. 

"  It  was,  dearest ;  but  it  was  merciful,  notwithstanding.  If 
God  had  passed  it  by,  and  permitted  Gehazi  to  continue  his 
sinful  course,  without  any  check  or  chastisement  that  would  re- 
call him  to  a  sense  of  better  things,  and  a  wish  to  pursue  them, 
he  might  have  continued  apparently  very  happy  in  this  life,  to 
be  miserable  forever  in  the  next;  to  be  banished  forever  from 
God  and  His  good  angels ;  and  would  not  that  have  been  still 
more  dreadful  than  the  heaviest  suffering  here  ?  In  those  times 
God  manifested  his  judgments  through  His  prophets  directly. 
That  is  not  the  case  now,  but  he  has  given  us  His  Word  to  tell 
us,  by  history  as  well  as  precept,  those  things  that  are  pleasinj; 
to  Him,  and  those  which  excite  His  anger;  and  which,  if  no* 


i52  HOME    INFLUENCE. 

corrected  while  we  are  in  this  world,  will  ca:ise  our  condemna- 
tion when  our  souls  appear  before  Him  in  judgment,  and  when 
we  cannot  correct  them  if  we  would.  Now  children,  and  even 
young  people,  cannot  know  these  things  as  well  as  their  parents 
and  guardians  can,  and  if  we  neglect  to  teach  them  right  and 
wrong,  God  is  more  angry  with  us  than  with  them,  as  He  tells 
Ezekiel."  She  read  from  the  18th  to  the  22d  verse  of  the 
third  chapter,  and  explained  it,  so  that  Ellen  could  clearly  un- 
derstand it,  and  then  said,  "And  now,  my  dear  Ellen,  can  you 
quite  understand  and  quite  feel  why  I  have  caused  you  so  much 
pain,  and  been,  as  I  dare  say  you  have  felt,  so  very,  very 
severe  ?  " 

Ellen's  arms  were  round  her  neck  in  a  moment,  and  her  head 
cradled  on  her  bosom,  as  her  sole  reply,  for  she  felt  she  could 
not  speak  at  first,  without  crying  again. 

"  I  wish  I  could  remember  that  God  sees  me  wherever  I  am," 
she  said,  after  a  short  pause,  and  very  sadly.  "I  am  so  fright- 
ened when  I  think  of  anybody's  anger,  even  Caroline's,  that  I 
cannot  remember  any  thing  else." 

"  Did  you  notice  the  Psalm  we  read  the  day  before  yester- 
day, my  dear  Ellen,  in  the  morning  lesson  ?  " 

The  child  had  not ;  and  her  aunt  turning  to  the  129th,  read 
the  first  twelve  and  the  two  last  verses  carefully  with  her,  add- 
ing— 

"  Suppose  you  learn  one  verse  for  me  every  morning,  till  you 
can  repeat  the  whole  fourteen  perfectly,  and  I  think  that  will 
help  you  to  remember  it,  my  Ellen,  and  prove  to  me  that  you 
really  are  anxious  to  correct  yourself;  and  now  one  word  more, 
and  I  think  I  shall  have  talked  to  you  quite  enough." 

"  Indeed,  indeed  I  am  not  tired,  dear  aunt,"  replied  Ellen, 
very  earnestly ;  "  I  feel  when  you  are  talking  to  me  as  if  I 
never  could  be  naughty  again.  Oh !  how  I  wish  I  never 
were." 

"  I  am  not  so  unconscionable  as  to  expect  you  to  have  no 
faults,  my  dear  child ;  all  I  wish  you  to  attend  to,  is  more  obe- 
dience to  my  commands.  I  have  not  said  any  thing  about  your 
disobedience,  because  your  untruth  was  of  still  more  conse- 
quence, but  that  grieved  me  too,  for  disobedience  to  m<  is  also 
disobedience  to  God,  for  He  has  commanded  you  to  obey  your 
parents  and  guardians ;  and  as  you  said  you  remembered  I  had 
told  you  not  to  move  the  flower-stand,  I  cannot  imagine  what 
could  have  induced  you  so  wilfully  to  disobey  me." 

Eilen  looked  up  in  her  face  with  such  earnest,  wistful  eyes 
that  Mrs.  Hamilton  felt  puzzled ;  but  as  she  did  not  speah  and 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  153 

taid  her  head  again  on  its  resting  place,  to  hide  the  tears  that 
rose,  her  aunt  merely  added  — 

"  But  as  I  do  not  wish  to  inflict  any  further  pain,  I  will  not 
say  any  thing  more  about  it ;  only  remember,  that  though  I  may 
be  displeased  if  you  disobey  me  again,  an  instant  and  full  con 
Pension  will  soon  gain  my  forgiveness ;  and  that  though  I  will 
never  doubt  your  Avord,  still,  if  I  discover  another  untruth,  it  will 
and  must  oblige  me  to  adopt  still  severer  measures,  painful  as  it 
will  be  to  myself.  Do  not  tremble  so,  my  Ellen,  you  know  you 
can  prevent  it ;  and  remember  too  that  whenever  you  fail  in 
truth,  you  punish  me  as  well  as  yourself;"  and  Mrs.  Hamilton 
fondly  kissed  her  as  she  spoke. 

Light  steps  and  a  ringing  laugh  at  that  mdment  sounded  in 
the  passage,  and  Emmeline,  though  she  certainly  did  ask  if  she 
might  enter,  scarcely  waited  for  an  answer,  before  she  bounded 
in,  the  very  personification  of  health  and  joy. 

"  Mamma,  papa  wants  to  know  if  we  may  not  have  tea  to- 
night, and  if  we  may  not  have  Ellen's  company  too  ?  " 

"  It  is  New  Year's  Eve,"  pleaded  another  joyous  voice,  and 
Percy's  brown  head  just  intruded  itself  through  the  half- opened 
door ;  "  and  our  tree  will  not  be  hah0  enjoyable  unless  we  are 
all  there." 

"  I  had  really  forgotten  your  tree,  my  dear  children,  but  I  am 
glad  papa  and  you  all  have  remembered  it.  Come  in,  Percy ; 
Ellen  will,  I  dare  say,  admit  you  into  her  room." 

"  He  raced  me  all  around  the  gallery,  mamma,  declaring  he 
would  give  you  papa's  message,  or  so  take  away  my  breath, 
that  even  if  I  outstripped  him,  I  should  not  be  able  ;  but  I  have, 
you  see  sir." 

"  Only  because  I  did  not  know  whether  it  was  quite  proper 
to  enter  a  young  lady's  room.  But  do  come,  mamma ;  Mr. 
Howard  is  with  us  as  usual,  and  we  are  all  au  desespoir  for 
you  and  our  little  Ellen  —  she  may  come,  I  can  read  it  in  your 
eyes." 

"  Are  you  well  enough,  my  love  ?  Do  you  think  this  poor 
little  head  will  permit  you  to  join  us?"  asked  Mrs.  Hamilton, 
anxiously  for  the  sudden  joy  that  gleamed  in  Ellen's*  eyes  at  the 
idea  of  joining  the  family,  told  what  the  disappointment  would 
be  if  she  could  not. 

"  It  does  not  hurt  me  at  all  if  I  can  rest  it,  aunt ;  but  I  am 
afraid  it  will  not  let  me  walk,"  she  added,  sorrowfully,  as  tie 
attempt  to  walk  caused  it  to  throb  again. 

"  Never  mind,  Nelly,  even  if  you  cannot  walk  ;  you  shall 
make  use  of  my  pedestrian  powers,"  replied  Percy,  joyously ; 


154  HOME   INFLUENCE. 

"rest  your  head  on  my  shoulder  —  that's  it  —  I  should  make  a 
capital  nurse  I  declare;  should  I  not,  maimxa?" 

And  gayly  answering  in  the  affirmative,  his  mother  could 
scarcely  prevent  a  throb  of  pride,  as  she  looked  on  his  fine  manly 
face,  beaming  with  benevolent  kindness  on  his  little  cousin,  whom 
he  had  tenderly  lifted  in  his  arms,  and  checked  his  boisterous 
mirth  and  rapid  stride  to  accommodate  her. 

"  You  are  not  quite  so  light  as  Tiny,  but  she  is  all  air ;  I  ex- 
pect she  will  evaporate  some  day :  never  mind  your  hair,  it  does 
very  well." 

"  Stop,  I  will  smooth  it  in  a  moment,"  exclaimed  Emmeline, 
eagerly ;  "  it  is  Sunday,  Percy,  she  shall  look  well." 

"  You  had  better  let  me  do  it,  Emmy,"  said  her  mother, 
smiling ;  "  your  cousin's  head  can  only  bear  very  tender  hand- 
ling to-night.  There,  that  will  do  —  and  I  am  quite  ready  to 
attend  you." 

The  lights,  the  joyous  voices,  even  her  uncle's  kind  greeting, 
almost  overpowered  poor  Ellen ;  as  Percy,  still  preserving  his 
character  of  an  admirable  nurse,  laid  her  carefully  on  a  couch  in 
the  sitting-room,  where  not  only  tea  was  waiting,  but  the  cele- 
brated family  tree,  which  Mrs.  Hamilton's  anxiety  and  Ellen's 
sorrow  had  caused  them  both  to  forget,  was  displayed  with  even 
more  than  usual  taste  and  beauty. 

Mr.  Hamilton,  when  young,  had  been  a  great  deal  with  his 
father  in  Germany,  Denmark,  and  Sweden,  and  brought  from 
the  first  and  latter  country  certain  domestic  observances  which 
had  especially  pleased  him,  as  so  greatly  enhancing  the  enjoy- 
ments of  home,  and  helping  to  a  right  understanding  between 
parents  and  children,  by  increasing  their  mutual  love  and  con- 
fidence. The  family  tree,  or  Christmas  Tree,  as  it  was  called, 
was  one  of  these,  and  from  their  earliest  years  it  had  been  one 
of  the  children's  greatest  delights  on  Isew  Year's  Eve.  Of 
course,  as  they  grew  older,  and  their  taste  improved,  the  tree 
itself,  its  suspended  presents,  and  its  surrounding  decorations 
increased  in  beauty,  and  it  had  never  been  prettier  than  it  was 
this  year.  The  whole  of  the  preceding  afternoon  had  the  young 
artists  labored  in  preparing  it,  for  of  course,  as  the  next  day 
was  Sunday,  it  was  obliged  to  be  all  finished  by  the  Saturday 
night ;  the  servants,  eager  in  all  things  to  enhance  the  happiness 
of  those  whose  parents  made  them  so  happy,  did  not  care  what 
trouble  they  took  to  help  them.  They  always  selected  the  roc  m 
in  which  there  was  a  very  lofty  and  very  deep  oriel  window,  in 
the  centre  of  which  recess  (which  was  almost  as  large  as  a 
moderately  sized  room)  they  placed  the  tree,  which  was  a  vtrj 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  155 

large,  gracefully-cut  spruce  fir ;  it  was  placed  in  a  tub  filled 
with  the  same  soil  as  that  in  which  the  tree  grew,  so  that  by 
watering  and  care  it  remained  fresh  for  some  time.  The  tub 
which  contained  it  was  completely  hidden  by  the  flowering 
shrubs  that  were  placed  round  it,  rising  in  an  expanding  pyra- 
mid, by  means  of  several  flower-stands,  till  the  recess  seemed 
one  mass  of  leaf  and  flower ;  among  which  the  superb  scarlet 
geranium,  that  in  Devonshire  grows  so  luxuriantly  all  through 
the  winter,  shining  against  its  own  beautiful  leaf,  the  brilliant 
berries  of  the  holly,  with  their  dark  glistening  branches,  the 
snow-berry  and  flowering  myrtle,  shone  preeminent.  Small 
lamps  glittered  through  the  flowers,  and  were  suspended  in  suffi- 
cient profusion  from  the  pendent  branches  of  the  tree  to  half 
reveal  and  half  hide  the  various  gifts  and  treasures  that  were 
there  deposited ;  and  altogether  the  effect,  from  every  part  of 
the  room,  was  really  striking. 

The  tree  always  remained  till  after  their  ball,  but,  the  inter- 
change of  gifts  which  took  place  on  New  Year's  Eve,  causing 
so  many  peculiarly  happy  and  home  feelings,  was  confined  to 
the  family  group  ;  Mr.  Howard  always  included.  Many  weeks 
before  had  each  individual  worked  at  his  own  secret  undertaking. 
If  it  could  not  all  be  done  in  private,  no  questions  were  ever 
asked,  and  each  helped  the  other  to  keep  it  at  least  from  their 
parents  till  the  eventful  night  itself.  They  formed  so  large  a 
party  altogether,  as  little  tokens  of  affection  between  the  brothers 
and  sisters  were  also  exchanged,  that  the  tree  was  quite  loaded, 
and  many  a  time  had  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hamilton  discovered  some 
trait  of  character  or  some  ruling  fancy,  even  in  such  a  simple 
thing  as  the  manufacture  and  presentation  of  home  gifts. 
Their  own  idea  of  family  ties  was  so  strong  and  so  holy,  that 
one  great  aim  in  the  education  of  their  children  was  to  make 
(hem  not  only  love  each  other,  but  have  thought  and  attention 
for  individual  feelings  and  wishes,  and  so  heighten  feeling  by 
action,  not  depend  entirely  on  natural  ties.  Mrs.  Hamilton  had 
known  many  young  persons  who  were  lavish  in  attentions  and 
even  presents  to  friends,  but  never  imagined  that  their  own 
home  circle  had  the  first  and  strongest  claim  to  kindness,  whether 
of  word  or  deed.  She  knew  that  affections  and  thought  lavished 
on  comparative  strangers  never  radiated  on  home,  but  that 
when  gi/en  to  home  Jirst,  they  shed  light  and  kindliness  far 
and  near. 

Their  tea  was  indeed  a  mirthful  one ;  Ellen  had  been  very 
fearful  of  meeting  Mr.  Howard,  for  she  thought  he  must  hare 
been  told  how  naughty  she  had  been  ;  but  if  he  had,  there  vcas 


156  HOME   INFLUENCE. 

nothing  in  his  manner  to  say  so ;  for  he  shook  hands  with  her 
and  even  kissed  her  most  kindly,  and  told  her,  laughingly,  that 
ehe  must  be  quite  well  by  the  next  night,  or  how  was  she  to 
dance  ?  That  he  thought  it  would  be  a  good  thing  if  Emme- 
liue  could  give  her  a  little  of  her  dancing  mania,  as  she  hardly 
ever  only  walked,  even  when  she  called  herself  quite  sober. 
Edward,  every  passing  thought  of  self-reproach  banished  by 
his  sister's  return  to  favor,  was  in  the  wildest  spirits ;  Percy 
and  Emmeline  seemed  to  have  laid  a  wager  who  could  say  the 
wittiest  things  and  laugh  the  most.  Herbert  was  very  quiet, 
but  looking  as  happy  as  the  rest,  and  quite  entering  into  their 
mirth,  and  showing  all  sorts  of  little  gentle  attentions  to  Ellen, 
who  had  seemed  to  shrink  from  his  eye,  more  than  from  all  the 
others.  Caroline  fully  entered  into  the  spirit  of  the  evening, 
but  neither  she  nor  Miss  Harcourt  took  the  same  notice  of 
Ellen  as  the  rest.  The  person  who  was  to  act  the  Wizard's 
part,  and  by  means  of  a  long  wand  detach  the  various  treasures 
from  the  tree,  and  carry  them  to  the  owners  whose  names  they 
bore,  was  always  chosen  by  lot ;  and  great  was  the  delight  ot 
the  young  party,  when  this  night  the  olftce  fell  on  Mr.  Howard. 
No  one  seemed  more  pleased  than  himself,  performing  it  with 
such  a  spirit  of  enjoyment  and  originality,  that  a  general  vote 
declared  him  the  very  choicest  wizard  they  had  ever  had.  To 
enumerate  all  the  contents  of  that  marvellous  tree  would  be 
impossible.  Their  parents'  gifts  to  each  of  them  were  not  in 
the  tree,  but  always  given  afterward ;  but  great  was  the  de- 
light, when,  after  a  terrible  tussle  to  detach  a  large  roll  of 
cloth,  down  it  came,  right  on  Mr.  Howard's  head,  and  almost 
enveloped  him  with  its  folds,  and  proved  to  be  a  beautiful 
cover,  which  he  had  long  desired  for  a  favorite  table  in  his 
drawing-room ;  at  the  embroidered  border  of  which,  not  only 
the  three  girls,  but  Mrs.  Hamilton  and  Miss  Harcourt  had  all 
worked,  as  a  joint  offering  of  love  and  respect.  This  good  man 
was  so  charmed,  that  he  declared  he  would  not  use  his  wand 
again  till  he  had  full  five  minutes  to  admire  it.  Then  there 
was  a  very  pretty,  comfortable  pair  of  slippers,  worked  by 
Caroline  and  Emmeline  for  their  father,  and  a  pair  of  braces 
worked  by  Ellen,  all  accompanied  by  some  most  ludicrous,  but 
\ery  clever  verses  from  Percy.  Edward,  who  was  very  in 
"enious,  nad  turned  a  very  pretty  stand  for  his  uncle  to  put  his 
watch  in  at  night  ;  and  manufactured  two  little  vessels  01 1  of 
cork  for  his  aunt,  so  delicately,  and  neatly,  that  she  promised 
dim  they  should  stand  on  the  mantelpiece  of  her  dressing-room, 
•is  long  as  thev  would  last.  Caroline  had  knitted  her  ir other  a 


HOME    INFLUENCE.  157 

r  ,ry  pretty  bag,  and  Emmeline  and  Ellen  had  collected  for  hei 
a  variety  of  leaves  throughout  the  year,  and  arranged  them 
with  great  taste,  both  as  to  grouping  and  tinting,  in  a  sort  of 
small  herbal,  with  two  or  three  lines  of  poetry,  selected  and 
carefully  written  by  each  alternately,  attached  to  each  page. 
Mrs.  Hamilton  was  excessively  pleased,  as  she  was  also  with  a 
portfolio  formed  by  drawings  from  both  her  boys,  and  tastefully 
made  up  by  Miss  Harcourt ;  and  with  their  gifts  to  their  father, 
a  correct  and  most  beautifully  written  out  Greek  poem,  which 
Mr.  Hamilton  had  several  months,  if  not  moi'e  than  a  year 
before,  expressed  a  wish  to  possess,  but  the  volume  which  con 
tained  it  was  so  scarce,  and  so  expensive  from  the  quantity 
of  uninteresting  matter  in  which  the  gem  was  buried,  that  he 
had  given  up  all  thought  of  it.  Herbert,  however,  had  not,  and 
never  rested  from  the  time  his  father  spoke,  till  he  had  found 
and  copied  it  —  a  task  of  no  small  difficulty,  for  the  original 
was  in  many  parts  almost  entirely  effaced,  and,  if  Herbert  had 
not  been  an  admirable  Greek  scholar,  and  a  quick  imaginator 
as  to  what  it  ought  to  be,  Mr.  Howard  himself  had  said  he 
could  not  have  succeeded.  The  writing  of  the  Greek  character 
was  most  beautiful,  and  Percy,  in  imitation  of  the  ancient  mis- 
sals, had  designed  and  painted  an  elegant  illuminated  border 
round  it,  and  a  beautiful  cover  forming  a  thin  volume,  so  valua- 
ble, their  father  delighted  them  by  saying,  that  he  would  not 
exchange  it  for  twenty  of  the  most  precious  volumes  in  his 
library.  Such  evidences  of  the  home  influence  they  had  given, 
in  permitting  leisure  for  the  cultivation  of  taste  and  imagina- 
tion, teaching  them  the  beautiful,  and  opening  innumerable 
resources  of  enjoyment  within  themselves,  and  thence  allowing 
them  to  enhance  the  pleasures  of  others,  were  indeed  most 
gratifying  to  those  earnest  and  affectionate  guardians.  From 
their  earliest  years  they  had  been  taught,  that  to  give  the  great- 
est amount  of  pleasure  to  their  parents,  their  gifts  must  be  all, 
or  at  least  have  something  in  them,  of  their  own  workmanship, 
and  to  enable  them  to  do  this,  the  lads  had  been  taught  in 
their  hours  of  recreation  to  use  all  sorts  of  tools,  visiting  and 
knowing  something  of  a  variety  of  handicrafts ;  and  the  girls 
to  work  and  draw,  and  even  bring  the  stores  of  Nature  to  their 
aid  when  needed,  as  in  the  present  case,  with  Emmeline  and 
Ellen's  tasteful  gift. 

Our  young  readers  must  call  upon  their  own  imagination  as 
to  the  other  treasures  of  this  valuable  tree  ;  for,  as  they  would, 
no  doubt,  like  to  know  what  sort  of  New  Year's  gifts  Mr.  and 
Mrs  Hamilton  had  in  store  for  their  children  (for  Miss  liar- 


158  HOME   INFLUENCE. 

cour«  too,  for  they  never  omitted  her,)  we  really  rnus'  nol  lingei 
cound  it  any  longer.  Poor  Ellen,  indeed,  had  the  pain  of  feel- 
ing that  her  fault  and  its  consequences  had  prevented  the  com- 
pletion of  her  purse  for  Percy,  and  a  chain  for  Edward,  and 
her  cheek  burned  very  painfully,  when  Mr.  Howard,  after  ex« 
liausting  the  tree,  exclaimed  — 

"  Nothing  from  Ellen  for  Percy  and  Edward.  Young  gen- 
tlemen, have  you  been  receiving  any  gifts  in  secret?  —  out 
with  them  if  you  have  —  it  is  against  all  law  and  propriety." 

"  We  shall  receive  them  next  week,  most  potent  conjurer, 
as  you  ought  to  have  known  without  inquiring,"  answered 
Percy,  directly ;  and  bending  over  Ellen,  by  whom  he  chanced 
to  be  standing,  he  said,  kindly,  "  Never  mind,  Nelly,  you  will 
have  time  to  finish  them  both  next  week." 

"  Do  not  say  '  never  mind,'  my  dear  boy,  though  I  admire 
and  sympathize  in  your  kind  care  of  your  cousin's  feelings,'' 
said  his  mother,  in  the  same  low  tone,  as  only  to  be  heard  by 
him  and  Ellen.  (Mr.  Howard  was  very  quick-sighted,  and  he 
took  Percy's  jest  and  turned  off  all  further  notice  of  his  words.) 
"  Even  such .  a  little  thing  as  this  in  Ellen's  case  is  pain,  and 
can  only  be  felt  as  such ;  we  do  not  lessen  it  by  denying  it,  my 
Ellen,  do  we  ?  " 

"  I  would  rather  feel  it,  if  it  would  help  me  to  remember," 
was  Ellen's  earnest  and  humble  reply ;  adding,  "  but  I  thank 
you,  dear  Percy  —  you  are  so  kind." 

"  Not  a  bit,"  was  his  laughing  answer.  "  Why,  what  in  the 
world  is  this  ?  "  he  added  ;  "  I  thought  the  tree  was  exhausted." 

"  So  it  is,  but  this  was  hid  at  its  root,"  replied  Mr.  Howard, 
"  and  though  it  is  directed  to  Caroline,  it  is  somewhat  too 
heavy  for  my  wand,  and  must  reach  her  in  a  more  natural 
way." 

"  Why,  it  is  my  flower,  my  own  beautiful  flower,  or  one 
exactly  like  it,  at  least,"  exclaimed  Caroline,  joyfully,  as,  re- 
moving a  hollow  pyramid  of  green  and  white  paper,  a  myrtle 
was  discovered  of  the  same  rare  kind,  and  almost  in  as  beauti- 
ful flower  as  the  one  whose  death  had  caused  such  increased 
coldness  in  her  feelings  toward  Ellen.  "  How  did  it  come 
who  could  have  procured  it  for  me  ?  " 

"  Ellis  sent  for  it  at  my  request,  dear  Caroline,"  answered 
Ellen.  "  She  said  they  were  to  be  purchased  from  the  gar 
dener  at  Powderham,  and  if  it  were  possible  to  s<  nd  any  one 
so  far,  sh3  would  endeavor  to  get  one.  for  me;  she  told  me 
yesterday  she  had  succeeded,  and  I  thought  she  gave  it  you, 
as  I  begged  her,  directly ;  I  had  no  opportunity  to  tell  you 
before,  but  I  was  so  very,  very  sorry  I  had  hurt  yoi  r  flowi-r." 


HOME    INFLUENCE.  159 

"  Ellis  was  very  wise  to  put  it  among  the  pretty  things  of 
.his  evening,  instead  of  obeying  you,"  said  her  uncle,  kindly; 
u  and  I  really  am  glad  that  your  great  desire  to  replace  it 
made  her  think  of  sending  for  it,  for  though  I  meant  to  have 
given  Caroline  another,  I  had  so  many  things  on  my  mind  this 
week  that  it  escaped  me  ;  and  I  know  they  are  so  much  sought 
for,  Wilson  has  scarcely  ever  one  on  hand." 

"Indeed,  papa,  you  were  much  too  kind  to  think  about  it  at 
all,"  said  Caroline,  very  earnestly.  "  I  am  afraid,  if  you  knew 
how  very  cross  and  unkind  the  loss  of  the  other  made  me,  you 
would  have  withdrawn  your  idea  of  such  indulgence.  I  am 
very  much  obliged  to  you,  Ellen,"  she  continued  much  more 
cordially  than  she  had  yet  spoken  to  her  cousin  ;  "I  did  not 
deserve  it  even  from  you,  for  I  worked  myself  into  such  an  ill- 
temper,  as  almost  to  believe  you  did  it  purposely,  and  I  had 
no  right  to  think  that." 

It  did  indeed  bear  out  its  language,  that  pretty  flower,  for, 
with  this  one  coldness  removed  —  though  Mrs.  Hamilton's 
trembling  heart  dared  not  hope  it  would  be  lasting  —  love  now 
reigned  preeminent.  Every  happy  feeling  increased  when  :n 
the  presents  from  their  parents  each  recognized  something  that 
had  been  wished  for,  though  they  never  rememberer1  express- 
ing it.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hamilton  were  always  united  in  these 
New  Year's  gifts,  though  tokens  of  approval  or  occasional  in- 
dulgences were  often  given  separately.  There  were  a  set  of 
most  beautiful  engravings  for  Percy,  w7hich  for  the  last  three 
or  four  months  he  had  been  most  anxious  to  possess ;  but  with 
the  recollection  of  former  folly  very  fresh  in  his  memory,  he 
had  actually  succeeded  in  driving  them  from  his  mind,  and 
gave  them  up  as  unattainable,  till  he  was  richer,  at  least.  For 
Herbert  there  was  a  fine  edition  of  the  Greek  tragedians  in 
their  original,  as  beautiful  a  work  of  art,  in  its  "  getting  up," 
as  Percy  called  it,  as  its  letter-press,  which  to  Herbert  was 
beyond  all  price.  Edward  was  almost  wild,  as  his  uncle  and 
aunt  telling  him  he  was  fourteen  next  March,  and  might  not 
be  with  them  next  New  Year's  eve,  presented  him  with  a 
treasure  coveted  beyond  all  other,  a  gold  watch.  (His  father's 
had  been  given  by  his  mother  as  a  parting  gift  to  Captain 
Camei'on.)  Mr.  Howard  declared  that  it  was  much  too  good 
frr  a  sailor,  and  would  be  lost  his  first  voyage;  he  had  much 
oetter  hand  it  over  to  the  Rectory,  promising  to  take  every 
care  of  it ;  but  looking  so  mischievous,  Edward  vowed  it  should 
uot  get  near  his  hand.  For  Caroline  was  a  most  corrplote 
snd  f  legantly  fitted-up  embroidery-box,  which  quite  chanted 


1 60  HOME   INFLUENCE. 

her,  for  it  was  exactly  like,  if' not  more  tasteful  and  complete, 
than  one  Annie  Grahame  had  brought  from  London,  and  which 
she  had  wondered,  Caroline  could  "  exist "  without.  As  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Hamilton  found  that  she  could  not  only  comfortably 
"  exist,"  but  much  as  she  admired  and  had  at  first  so  coveted 
it,  as  to  have  a  hard  battle  with  discontent,  she  had  never  even 
hinted  that  it  might  be  useful.  As  they  perceived  that  Lei 
mind  was  so  happily  engrossed  by  the  idea  of  the  pleasure  hei 
gifts  would  bestow,  as  not  to  cast  a  thought  upon  Annie's 
superior  box,  they  indulged  themselves  and  their  child,  and 
were  more  than  repaid  by  the  beaming  look  of  delight  with 
which  it  was  received.  For  Emmeline  was  a  parcel  almost  as 
large  as  herself,  Percy  declared.  "A  drawing-box  all  to  your- 
self, Tiny  !  Thank  goodness !  My  chalks  and  pencils  have 
some  chance  of  being  let  alone  ;  I  really  ought  to  thank  mam- 
ma and  papa  quite  as  much,  if  not  more,  than  you,  considering 
that  in  giving  you  a  new  possession  they  have  preserved  me 
an  old  one,  which  I  began  to  suspect  would  desert  me  piece  by 
piece.  What,  more  ?  "  he  continued,  laughing  at  his  sister's 
almost  scream  of  delight,  as  she  undid  the  covering  of  a  book. 
and  found  it  to  be  the  complete  poem  of  the  "  Lady  of  the 
Lake,"  extracts  of  which  she  had  read  in  the  reviews,  and  so 
revelled  in  them,  child  as  she  was,  as  to  commit  them  all  to 
memory,  with  scarce  an  effort,  only  longing  to  know  the  whole 
story. 

"And  now,  Nelly,  what  is  your  secret?  still  larger  than 
Tiny's ;  what  can  it  be?  Come,  guess;  I  have  you  in  my 
power,  for  you  are  not  strong  enough  to  race  me  as  Em  would, 
and  so  I  will  be  more  merciful.  What  of  all  things  would  you 
like  the  best  ?  —  one,  two,  three  guesses,  and  then  I'll  relieve 
you  ;  I  want  to  know  if  papa  and  mamma  have  looked  into 
your  secret  chamber  of  wishes,  as  they  have  done  in  all  of 
ours." 

"Do  not  be  afraid  of  guessing,  Ellen  ;  you  are  so  very  quiet, 
that  your  secret  chamber  of  wishes,  as  Percy  calls  it,  is  more 
concealed  than  any  of  the  others,"  said  her  uncle,  smiling;  "I 
;un  always  obliged  to  refer  to  your  aunt." 

"  Come,  Nell,  speak  or  I  will  indict  you  as  unworthy  of  any 
thing.  What  did  you  say?  a  desk !  Hurrah!  then,  there  it 
i.-  ;  and  what  a  beauty  —  rosewood  and  mother-of-pearl — just 
fitted  for  an  elegant  young  lady.  How  could  mamma  have 
found  out  so  exactly?  You  have  used  the  old  shabby  thins 
Herbert  lent  you,  as  quietly  and  contentedly  as  if  there  could 
not  be  a  bettor.  Do  let  us  examine  it  !  "  and  he  draped  :. 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  J61 

table  to  her  sofa,  and  displayed  to  the  delighted  child  all  its  fit- 
(ings-up,  and  its  conveniences,  and  the  pretty  pen-holder  and 
pencil-case,  and  fancy-wafers,  and  sealing-wax,  and  a  little  gold 
seal  with  her  own  name,  and  every  thing  that  could  possibly  be 
thought  of.  "  And  even  a  secret  drawer,"  exclaimed  Percy, 
quite  proud  of  the  discovery.  "  Do  look,  Ellen  ;  why,  you  can 
keep  all  sorts  of  secrets  there,  for  no  one  would  be  as  clever  as 
I  am  to  find  out  the  spring  without  being  told,  and  of  course  I 
should  not  betray  it ; "  and  he  laughingly  sent  away  everybody 
while  he  explained  to  Ellen  the  spring.  For  some  little  while 
longer  did  the  young  party  examine  and  reexamine  and  talk 
of  their  own  and  each  other's  treasures.  And  then  Mr.  Ha- 
milton bade  them  remember,  that,  though  it  was  New  Year's 
Eve,  it  Avas  Sunday  evening,  too,*  and  that  he  had  deferred  the 
hour  of  evening  prayer  till  ten,  that  they  might  have  time  to 
keep  both,  and  so  not  lose  the  sacred  music  which  was  always 
part  of  their  Sunday  recreation,  to  put  away  their  things,  and 
adjourn  to  their  music-room.  And  he  was  obeyed  in  a  very 
few  minutes ;  for,  though  they  might  have  preferred  lingering 
and  talking  where  they  were,  what  exertion  could  be  too  great 
for  those  who  so  thought  of,  so  cared  for  them  ? 

Returning  happiness  had  had  such  a  beneficial  effect,  that, 
though  Ellen  still  looked  pale  enough  for  her  aunt  not  to  feel 
quite  comfortable  about  her,  she  could  walk  without  any  return 
of  pain,  and  in  one  or  two  hymns  even  join  her  voice  with  her 
cousins',  though  it  was  weaker  than  usual.  However  small  in 
appearance  the  talent  for  music,  still  Mrs.  Hamilton  cultivated 
it,  in  her  boys  as  well  as  her  girls,  simply  for  the  sake  of  giving 
them  home  resources  and  amusements  that  could  be  pursued 
together  ;  she  thought  it  such  a  mistaken  notion  in  education  to 
imagine  that  only  perfection  was  worth  attaining  in  the  fine  arts, 
and  that,  if  there  were  not  talent  enough  for  that,  it  was  better 
not  attempted.  Many  a  home  might  have  envied  the  feelings 
with  which  old  and  young,  to  the  lowest  domestics,  sought  their 
pillows  that  night ;  for  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hamilton,  so  lavish  in 
their  indulgence  to  their  children,  never  forgot  that  for  their 
domestics  and  retainers  there  were  also  claims  on  New  Year's 
Eve  ;  and  the  servants'  hall,  and  every  cottage  which  called 
Mr.  Hamilton  landlord,  had  vied  in  happiness  with  his  own. 

*  While  passing  through  the  press,  the  scene  of  the  Family  Tree  lias  beea 
etrongly  objected  to  by  a  valued  Christian  friend,  as  being  enacted  on  the 
Sunday  evening.  It  was  too  late  then  to  repair  the  error.  The  author  can 
only  express  her  sincere  regret  for  a  fault  originating  in  an  insufficient  know 
ledge  of  the  Christian  feeling  toward  the  Sabbath,  and  most  earnestly  trusts 
the  error  may  be  pardoned. 


1 02  HOME   INFLUENCE 

Mrs.  Hamilton  had  visited  Ellen  the  last  thing,  to  sec  that 
che  was  quite  comfortable,  and  that  there  was  no  return  of  pain  ; 
and  she  was  almost  startled,  and  certainly  still  more  bewildered 
as  to  how  such  a  depth  of  feeling  could  exist  with  such  a  real 
childish  liability  to  error,  and  why  it  should  be  so  carefully  con- 
cealed, by  the  way  in  which  Ellen  clung  to  her,  as  she  bent 
over  her  to  wish  her  good  night,  with  the  same  unrestrained  af- 
fection as  her  own  Emmeline  did  so  often,  with  the  only  differ- 
ence, that  with  the  latter  it  seemed  always  to  spring  from  the 
very  exuberance  of  happiness,  which  could  only  be  thus  dis- 
played. With  Ellen,  this  night,  it  appeared  like  some  deep, 
quiet  feeling,  almost  of  devotion,  and  as  if —  though  Mrs.  Ha- 
milton's sober  reason  tried  to  persuade  her  imagination  that  it 
was  too  much  meaning  to  attach  to  a  mere  embrace  —  she  would 
thus  tell  her  how  intensely  she  felt,  not  only  the  indulgence  of 
that  evening,  but  the  true  kindness  and  watchful  love  which 
had  caused  the  preceding  sorrow.  She  might  have  thought,  as 
no  doubt  many  of  our  readers  will,  that  Ellen  was  much  too 
young  and  too  childish,  to  contrast  her  system  of  treatment  with 
her  poor  mother's ;  that  she  felt  her  soothing  care  in  her  hours 
of  physical  suffering  —  her  indulgent  love  making  no  distinction 
between  her  and  her  cousins  —  still  the  more  keenly  and  grate- 
fully, from  the  recollection  of  her  own  mother's  constant  prefer- 
ence of  Edward,  and  utter  neglect  of  her;  and  that  this  con- 
trast so  deepened  the  love  she  bore  her  aunt,  that  it  exceeded 
in  intensity  even  that  borne  toward  her  by  her  own  children.  — 
Adults  will  think  this  all  very  fanciful,  and  perhaps  interesting, 
but  wholly  improbable.  Mrs.  Hamilton  herself  would  have 
banished  the  idea,  as  too  imaginary  to  be  entertained  seriously 
for  a  moment,  as  any  guide  for  her  conduct.  Ellen  herself 
eould  not  have  explained  or  told  herself  that  so  she  felt;  and 
yet,  notwithstanding,  all  we  have  written  was  there,  and  was 
the  real  prompter  of  that  almost  passionate  embrace. 

"  Bless  you,  my  darling ! "  was  Mrs.  Hamilton's  fond  reply, 
instead  of  permitting  the  child  to  perceive  the  surprise  it  ex- 
cited in  herself;  and  Ellen  sunk  to  sleep,  almost  more  happ} 
thun  ever  in  her  little  life  she  had  felt  before. 


HOME  INFLUENCE.  163 


CHAPTER  XL 
THE  CHILDREN'S  BALL. 

IF  the  thought  of  their  promised  ball  were  the  first  that  tn- 
tered  the  minds  of  the  young  party  at  Oakwood,  as  they  opened 
their  eyes  on  New  Year's  day,  it  was  not  very  unnatural. 
Percy  gloried  in  the  anticipation  of  being  master  of  the  cere- 
monies, and  in  conducting  the  whole  affair  with  such  inimitable 
grace  and  gallantry,  that  every  one  should  declare  it  was  far 
superior  to  any  party,  old  or  young,  of  the  season,  except  Mr. 
Howard's;  that  was  beyond  him,  he  said,  for  he  could  not  put 
Mr.  Howard's  head  on  his  shoulders.  Herbert  anticipated  the 
enjoyment  of  Mary  Greville's  society,  talking  to  and  dancing 
with  her  undisturbed,  and  to  hearing  the  almost  universal  re- 
mark, what  a  sweet  girl  she  was.  Edward  did  not  exactly 
know  what  he  expected,  but  he  was  in  such  a  mood  of  hilarity 
and  mischief,  that  the  servants  all  declared  Master  Fortescue 
was  " mazed"  To  Caroline  their  ball  was  almost  always  (though 
unconfessedly)  the  happiest  evening  in  the  year.  She  knew 
she  was  handsome  —  Annie  Grahame  had  told  her  how  very 
much  she  would  be  admired  in  London,  and  that  if  she  were 
not  her  very  dearest  friend,  she  should  envy  her  beauty  terribly. 
She  often  in  secret  longed  painfully  for  admiration  and  homage  ; 
and  child  as  she  still  was  in  years,  yet  at  her  own  house,  and 
as  Mr.  Hamilton's  eldest  daughter,  in  addition  to  her  real  attrac- 
tions, she  always  received  both  in  sufficient  measure,  as  to  satis- 
fy even  herself.  She  delighted  in  those  evenings  when  it  so 
chanced  that  her  brothers  had  young  friends  with  them,  making 
no  hesitation  in  confessing  that  she  very  much  preferred  con- 
versing with  boys  than  with  girls,  there  was  so  much  more  va- 
riety, more  spirit ;  and  though  her  mother's  heart  would  actually 
tremble  at  the  fearful  ordeal  which  an  introduction  to  the  plea- 
sures of  the  world  would  be  to  such  a  character,  still  she  would 
not  check  the  open  expression  of  such  sentiments  by  reproving 
them  as  wrong,  and  not  to  be  encouraged.  She  knew  that 
though  education  might  do  much,  very  much,  it  could  not  make 
natural  characters  all  alike ;  nor,  in  fact,  did  she  wish  it.  She 
did  not  grieve  and  complain  that,  with  all  her  efforts  she  could 


164  HOME    INFLUKNCK. 

not  make  Caroline  give  her  as  little  trouble  and  ai  <iety  a.->  En; 
ineline,  nor  did  she  imagine  that  she  should  see  the  elFect  of  hei 
earnest  prayers  and  cares  all  at  once,  or  without  constant  re- 
lapses in  the  cherished  object  of  her  care.  She  did  all  she 
could  to  counteract  a  tendency  which,  situated  as  she  would  be 
when  she  entered  life,  must,  without  some  strong,  high  prin- 
ciple, lead  to  suffering,  and,  perhaps,  to  sin  —  for  what  is  co- 
quetry ?  But  she  indulged  in  no  idea  of  security,  never  believed 
that  because  she  had  so  tried,  so  striven  to  sow  the  good  seed, 
it  could  not  fail  to  bring  forth  good  fruit.  She  knew  many 
trials  might  be  in  store  for  her;  for  how  might  she  hope  to  pass 
through  life  blessed  as  she  was  then  ?  It  might  please  her  Fa- 
ther in  Heaven  to  try  her  faith  and  duty  through  those  she  loved 
BO  intensely;  but  if  she  failed  not  in  her  task,  he  would  bring 
her  joy  at  last. 

To  Emmeline  the  idea  of  dancing  was  quite  enough  to  be 
the  acme  of  enjoyment.  The  only  drawback  was,  that  in  the 
intervals  of  rest,  there  was  to  be  a  little  music,  and  though  her 
mother  had  excused  her  at  Mr.  Howard's,  she  knew  that  if  any 
body  expressed  a  wish  to  hear  her  at  her  own  house,  play  she 
must ;  and  at  those  times  she  was  half  sorry  she  had  chosen  to 
learn  the  harp  instead  of  the  piano,  as  Caroline  played  so  well 
on  the  latter  instrument  nobody  would  care  to  hear  her ;  but 
the  harp  was  rather  a  novelty,  and  no  little  girl  who  was  com- 
ing played  it,  and  so  she  was  sadly  afraid  there  was  no  escape 
for  her,  and  tbat  was  very  disagreeable,  but  she  would  not 
think  about  it  till  the  time  came  ;  the  dancing  to  such  music  as 
that  which  Mr.  Hamilton  had  ordered  from  Plymouth  was  joy 
enough. 

Ellen  though  rather  afraid  of  so  many  strangers,  could  not 
resist  the  general  contagion  of  anticipated  enjoyment.  She  did 
not  indeed  wake  with  the  thought  of  the  ball,  but  with  the  de- 
termination to  learn  the  verse  of  the  Psalm  her  aunt  had  point- 
ed out,  and  go  and  say  it  to  her  in  her  dressing-room  before 
she  went  down.  And  as  the  first  verse  was  very  short  she 
learned  two,  and  repeated  them  without  missing  a  word,  and  so 
as  if  she  quite  understood  them,  that  her  aunt  was  very  much 
pleased ;  and  then  Ellen  could  think  of  and  join  her  brother's 
and  cousins'  delight,  even  though  Mrs.  Hamilton  was  obliged 
to  be  what  she  called  very  cruel,  but  what  Ellen  knew  was 
very  kind,  though  it  did  seem  a  restraint,  and  keep  her  very 
quiet  all  day,  instead  of  letting  her  run  about  from  room  to 
room,  as  Emmeline  and  Edward,  and  even  Percy  did,  f.>r  fear 
of  another  headache  ;  and  so  well  did  quietness  succeed,  that 


HOME  INFLUENCE.  105 

•the  looked  and  was  unusually  well,  and  so  was  almost  lively  by 
the  evening. 

Just  before  dinner,  Percy,  who  had  gone  to  ride  because  he 
said  he  was  sure  he  should  get  into  some  scrape  if  he  did  not 
give  a  natural  vent  to  his  spirits,  galloped  back  in  company 
with  a  gentleman,  whose  presence  seemed  to  occasion  him  still 
greater  excitement. 

"  Where  is  my  mother  ?  and  is  my  father  at  home  ?  "  he 
asked  impatiently,  flinging  his  horse's  rein  to  Robert,  desiring 
him  to  take  every  care  of  the  gentleman's  horse,  as  he  should 
not  let  him  leave  Oakwood  that  night ;  and  rushing  across  the 
hall  threw  open  the  door  of  their  common  sitting-room,  and 
exclaimed  — 

"  Mother,  give  me  a  vote  of  thanks  and  praise  for  my  invin- 
cible eloquence !  —  Here  is  this  anchorite,  this  monk  of  the 
moor,  who,  when  I  first  encountered  him,  seemed  so  doughty  a 
denier  of  my  wishes,  actually  conquered  —  led  a  slave  to  your 
feet ;  reward  me  by  throwing  all  the  fascinations  you  possibly 
can  in  his  way,  that  he  may  only  dream  of  his  cold  ride  and 
desolate  cottage  on  Dartmoor  to-night." 

"  Be  quiet,  madcap ! "  replied  Mrs.  Hamilton,  rising  with 
very  evident  pleasure,  and  coming  forward  with  extended 
hand  ;  "  your  noisy  welcome  will  not  permit  mine  to  be  heard. 
This  is  indeed  a  pleasure,  Mr.  Morton,"  she  added,  addressing 
the  young  clergyman  with  that  earnest  kindness,  which  always 
goes  to  the  heart,  "  and  one  that  Mr.  Hamilton  will  most 
highly  appreciate  —  if,  as  I  trust,  the  chains  my  son  has  thrown 
over  you,  are  not  so  heavy  as  to  become  painful." 

"  I  should  rather  fear  the  pain  will  be  in  casting  them  off, 
Mrs.  Hamilton,  not  in  the  wearing  them,"  replied  Mr.  Morton, 
almost  sadly ;  "  it  is  the  knowledge,  that  mingling  as  often  in 
your  home  circle  as  Mr.  Hamilton  and  my  friend  Percy  desire, 
would  wholly  unfit  me  for  the  endurance  of  my  loneliness,  that 
keeps  me  so  aloof,  believe  me.  Inclination  wrould  act  a  very 
different  part,  but  there  was  no  resisting  such  eloquence  and 
such  happiness  as  his  to-day,"  he  continued,  more  gayly. 

And  Mr.  Hamilton  and  Herbert  entering  as  he  spoke,  their 
greeting  was  quite  as  warm  and  eager  as  Percy's  and  his  mo- 
ther's, and,  Mr.  Morton  gave  himself  up,  for  the  evening  at 
least,  to  enjoyment.  His  own  generous  nature  had  been  par- 
ticularly struck  by  Percy's  manly  conduct  with  regard  to  his 
satire,  and  different  as  were  their  characters,  a  warm  friend- 
ship from  that  moment  commenced  between  them.  It  was 
impossible  tu  resist  Percy's  warm-heartedness  of  word  an  1 


ItC  HOME    INFLUENCE. 

deed ;  and  that  lie  would  sometimes  leave  his  luxurious  home 
and  stay  two  or  three  days  with  Mr.  Morton,  seeming  actually 
to  enjoy  the  rude  cottage  and  its  desolate  localities,  and  spread 
such  a  spirit  of  mirth  within  and  around,  that  it  was  no  wonder 
the  afflicted  young  man  looked  to  his  society  as  almost  his 
greatest  pleasure,  especially  as  he  felt  he  dared  not  too  often 
accept  Mr.  Hamilton's  continually-proffered  invitation.  Oak- 
wood  was  the  home  which  had  been  his  beau  ideal  for  long 
years,  but  which  now  seemed  wholly  unattainable.  He  felt 
himself  doomed  to  solitude  and  suffering,  and  the  struggle  for 
content  and  cheerfulness  was  always  more  painful  after  he  had 
been  with  his  friends. 

When  all  preparations  for  the  evening  were  concluded,  even 
the  respective  toilets  completed,  Percy  and  Emmeline  found  if 
impossible  to  resist  trying  the  spring,  as  they  called  it,  of  the 
oaken  floors,  (whence  the  carpets  had  been  removed,)  and 
amused  themselves  by  waltzing  in  the  largest  circle  they  could 
make.  The  beautiful  suit  of  rooms  were  all  thrown  open,  and 
perceiving  Caroline  standing  by  the  piano  in  an  adjoining  apart- 
ment, Percy  called  out  — 

"  Play  us  a  waltz,  Caroline,  there's  a  love ;  the  very  liveliest 
you  can  find,  Tiny  and  I  want  to  try  the  boards  while  we  can 
enjoy  them  to  perfection,  that  is,  when  we  are  the  only  persons 
in  the  room." 

"  You  must  excuse  me,  Percy,"  she  replied  somewhat  pet- 
tishly ;  "  I  should  think  you  would  have  dancing  enough  in  the 
course  of  the  evening ;  and  what  will  our  friends  think,  if  they 
come  and  find  me  playing  ?  " 

"  Think  ?  why,  that  you  are  very  obliging,  which  at  present 
you  are  not,"  answered  Percy,  laughing ;  "  never  mind,  Emmy  ; 
let  us  try  what  our  united  lungs  will  do." 

"  You  may  if  you  like,  Percy,  but  really  I  am  not  cleve^ 
enough  to  dance  and  sing  at  the  same  time  —  I  should  have  m 
breath  left,"  was  her  joyous  rejoinder. 

"  Come  and  dance,  Caroline,  if  you  will  not  play,"  exclaimed 
Edward,  who  after  decorating  his  button-hole  with  a  sprig  of 
holly,  seemed  seized  with  Percy's  dancing-mania.  "  Do  give 
me  an  opportunity  of  practising  the  graces  before  I  am  called 
upon  to  display  them." 

"  My  love  of  dancing  is  not  so  great  as  to  attempt  it  without 
music,  so  practise  by  yourself.  Edward,"  was  Caroline's  quick 
reply. 

"  Without  spectators,  you  mean,  Lina,"  observed  her  brother 
very  dryly:  and  as  Emmeline  begged  him  not  to  tease  herj  lu 
asked  — 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  167 

"  What  has  put  her  in  this  ill-humor,  Emmy?" 
"  Oh,  I  don't  know  exactly  ;  but  if  you  let  her  alone,  she  will 
*>on  recover  it." 

"  Well,  to  please  you,  I  will ;  for  you  look  so  pretty  to-night, 
I  cannot  resist  you." 

"  Take  care,  Percy,  if  you  try  to  tui-n  my  head  with  such 
speeches,  I  shall  go  to  Edward,  and  punish  you  by  not  Avaltc- 
ing  with  you,"  said  his  little  sister,  shaking  her  head  at  him 
with  a  comic  species  of  reproach. 

"  That's  right,  Emmy ;  do  not  take  flattery  even  from  a 
brother,"  said  her  father,  coming  forward  with  a  smile  ;  "  but 
will  you  not  tire  yourself  by  dancing  already?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  papa ;  I  feel  as  if  I  could  dance  all  night  without 
stopping." 

"Not  with  me,  Emmeline,"  rejoined  Percy,  shrugging  his 
shoulders  with  horror  at  the  idea ;  "  I  should  cry  you  mercy, 
before  one  half  the  time  had  elapsed." 

"  But  if  you  are  not  to  be  tired,  will  you  not  spoil  your  dress, 
and  disorder  all  these  flowing  curls,"  continued  Mr.  Hamilton, 
"  and  surely  that  will  be  a  great  misfortune." 

"  Indeed  it  will  not,  papa  ;  Percy  has  surely  too  much  regard 
for  me,  to  wilfully  hurt  my  frock,  and  if  my  hair  should  be  so 
troublesome  as  to  get  out  of  order,  Fanny  will  rearrange  it  in 
a  few  minutes." 

"  If  you  wish  to  cause  alarm  on  that  score,  my  dear  father," 
said  Percy,  with  marked  emphasis,  "  You  must  go  to  Caroline, 
not  to  Emmeline.  Thank  goodness,  I  have  one  sister  above 
such  petty  misfortunes." 

"  Are  you  not  too  hard  upon  Caroline,  Percy  ?  " 
"  Yes,  papa,  he  is  indeed  ;  do  not  mind  what  he  says,"  an- 
swered Emmeline,  very  eagerly  ;  but  Percy  said,  impetuously — 
"  I  am  not,  Emmeline.     I  would  lay  any  wager  that  some- 
thing has  gone  wrong  with  her  dressing,  to-night,  and  so  made 
her  pettish.     Her  frock  is   not  smart  enough,  or  she  does  not 
wear  the  ornaments  she  wished,  or  some  such  thing." 

Caroline  had  fortunately  quitted  the  music-room,  or  this 
speech  would  not  have  tended  to  restore  her  serenity  ;  but  be- 
fore Mr.  Hamilton  could  reply,  Edward,  who  had  been  to  seek 
Ellen,  burst  into  the  room  exclaiming  — 

"  Now,  Percy,  we  may  have  a  proper  waltz  ;  aunt  Emmeline 
says  we  may  have  just  one  before  any  one  comes,  and  here  she 
is  tc  play  for  us,  and  Ellen  for  my  partner,"  and  they  enjoyod 
it  in  earnest.  Mr.  Hamilton  watched  them  for  a  few  minute  s, 
ind  then  went  to  seek  his  elder  girl. 


168  HOME  INFLUENCE. 

She  was  alone  in  a  little  room  prepared  for  refreshmenta 
tastefully  arranging  some  beautiful  flowers  in  a  bouquet.  She 
'ooked  up  as  he  entered,  and  so  smiled  that  her  fond  father 
Jiought  Percy  must  be  wrong,  for  there  certainly  seemed  nc 
trace  of  ill-temper. 

"  Why  are  you  not  with  your  brothers  and  sister  in  the  draw- 
ing-room, my  dear?  and  why  did  you  just  now  refuse  your 
brother  such  a  trifling  favor  as  playing  a  waltz  ?  "  he  asked,  but 
so  kindly,  that  Caroline,  though  she  blushed  deeply,  instantly 
replied  — 

"  Because,  papa,  my  temper  was  not  quite  restored ;  I  went 
into  the  music-room  to  try  mamma's  remedy  of  solitude  for  a 
few  minutes,  but  Percy  spoke  to  me  before  I  had  succeeded. 
I  know  I  answered  him  pettishly,  but  indeed,  papa,"  she  added, 
looking  up  earnestly  in  his  face,  "  indeed  he  is  very  provoking 
sometimes." 

"  I  know  he  is,  my  love ;  he  does  not  always  know  how  to 
time  his  jokes,  or  to  make  sufficient  allowance  for  dispositions 
not  exactly  like  his  own;  but  tell  me,  what  first  occasioned  tem- 
per so  to  fail  that  solitude  was  necessary." 

Caroline's  blush  became  still  deeper,  and  she  turned  away 
her  head  saying,  very  hesitatingly  — 

"  For  such  a  very,  very  silly  reason,  papa,  that  I  do  not  like 
to  tell  you." 

"  Nay,  my  dear,  do  not  fear  that  I  shall  either  laugh  at  or 
reproach  you.  If  you  feel  yourself  how  very  silly  it  was,  I 
am  not  afraid  of  its  gaining  too  great  ascendency,  even  if  you 
fail  again." 

"  It  was  only  —  only  —  that  I  was  not  quite  satisfied  with 
the  dress  mamma  desired  me  to  wear  to-night,  papa ;  that  was 
all,  indeed." 

"  You  wished,  perhaps,  to  wear  a  smarter  one,  my  love," 
replied  her  father,  kissing  her  glowing  cheek  so  affectionately, 
that  the  pain  of  her  confession  was  instantly  soothed ;  "  but 
indeed,  I  think  mamma  has  shown  a  much  better  taste.  It  re- 
quires more  care  than  you  are  yet  perhaps  aware  of,  to  dress 
so  exactly  according  to  our  age  and  station,  as  to  do  ourselves 
justice,  and  yet  excite  no  unpleasant  feelings  in  those  of  a 
lower,  and  no  contempt  in  those  of  a  higher  grade.  Many  of 
our  friends  who  are  coming  to-night  could  not  afford  to  dress 
their  children  as  we  might  ours,  and  do  you  not  think  it  would 
be  both  inhospitable  and  unkind,  by  being  over-dressed,  to  ex- 
cite any  unpleasant  feeling  of  inferiority  in  their  minds,  wiien 
lv  none  exists?  for  difference  of  fortune  alone  can  neve" 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  169 

constitute  inferiority.  I  am  wizard  enough  to  guess  that  was 
mamma's  reason  for  your  being  attired  so  simply  and  yet  so 
prettily  to-night,  and  equally  wizard  enough  to  guess  your  rea- 
son for  wishing  to  be  smarter  —  shall  I  tell  it  you  ?"  he  added, 
playfully.  "  Because  you  fancy  Miss  Grahame  will  be  attired 
in  such  a  very  fashionable  London  costume,  that  yours  will  ap- 
pear so  very  plain  and  so  childish.  I  see  by  that  conscious 
smile,  I  have  guessed  correctly ;  but,  indeed,  I  would  not  ex- 
change my  dear  ingenuous  Caroline,  even  were  she  attired  in 
the  cottager's  stuff'  frock,  for  Annie  Grahame,  did  she  bring 
worlds  as  her  dowry.  And  as  you  like  ornaments,  wear  this," 
he  added,  tastefully  twining  a  superb  sprig  of  scarlet  geranium 
in  the  rich  dark  hair  that  shaded  Caroline's  noble  brow  ;  "  and 
if  mamma  inquires,  tell  her  your  father  placed  it  there,  as  a 
token  of  his  approbation,  for  temper  conquered  and  truth  un- 
hesitatingly spoken  —  spite  of  pain." 

Caroline's  brilliant  eye  sparkled  with  a  more  delightful  sense 
of  pleasure  than  any  triumph  of  dress  could  have  bestowed, 
and  in  answer  to  her  father's  inquiry,  for  whom  she  had  ar- 
ranged such  a  beautiful  bouquet,  she  said  — 

"  It  is  for  mamma,  dear  papa  —  Emmeline  is  always  before 
me  ;  but  I  think  the  idea  of  to-night's  enjoyment  has  so  bewil- 
dered her,  that  she  has  forgotten  it,  so  I  may  just  have  time  to 
present  it  before  any  one  comes,"  and  she  hastened  with  her 
father  to  the  drawing-room,  where  she  found  Mrs.  Greville  and 
her  two  children  (for  Alfred  was  at  home  for  a  few  months,) 
in  addition  to  Mr.  Morton  and  their  own  family  group  ;  and  the 
young  clergyman  could  not  but  admire  the  natural  grace  with 
which  Caroline,  after  warmly  welcoming  her  guests,  presented 
her  flowers  to  her  mother.  It  was  a  very  little  thing,  but  the 
joys  and  griefs  of  home  are  almost  all  made  up  of  little  things 
and  Mrs.  Hamilton  was  pleased,  not  from  the  attention  alone, 
but  that  it  proved,  trifling  as  it  was,  that  the  annoyance  and 
discontent  which  her  command  had  occasioned  in  her  child  had 
left  no  unkind  feeling  behind  them  ;  and  the  manner  with  which 
she  received  it  made  Caroline  very  happy,  for  she  had  inwardly 
feared  her  ill-temper  not  only  deserved,  but  had  excited  her 
mother's  displeasure. 

Emmeline's  look  of  disappointment  and  self-reproach  at  her 
own  unusual  forgetfulness  was  so  irresistibly  comic,  that  Percy 
and  Edward  burst  into  an  immoderate  fit  of  laughter,  which 
the  former  only  checked  to  ask  Caroline  where  she  had  been, 
and  what  she  had  done,  to  produce  such  an  extraordinary 
change  for  the  better  in  her  appearance  m  so  short  a  time 


170  HOME  INFLUENCE. 

'  Oh,  you  have  no  right  to  my  secrets,  Percy,"  was  her  per- 
fectly good-humored  reply;  "I  do  not  think  I  shall  answer 
you,  except  by  having  the  chanty  to  refer  you  to  papa,  who 
has  prodijced  the  change." 

"  By  means  of  this  pretty  flower,  then,  I  imagine,"  said  Mrs. 
Hamilton ;  "  its  power  I  do  not  pretend  to  know,  but  the  taste 
with  which  it  is  placed  might  vie  with  that  of  the  most  fashion- 
able artists  of  the  metropolis.  Mrs.  Greville  do  unite  with 
me  in  congratulating  Mr.  Hamilton  on  his  new  accomplish- 
ment." 

The  rapid  succession  of  arrivals  prevented  any  further  re- 
mark, and  very  speedily  the  inspiring  sound  of  the  beautiful 
music,  which  was  stationed  in  a  sort  of  antechamber  between 
the  drawing-room  and  ball-room,  removed  any  thing  like  stiff- 
ness or  reserve  which  the  younger  guests  might  have  at  first 
experienced  among  themselves.  After  two  or  three  quadrilles, 
the  spirit  of  enjoyment  seemed  to  reign  alone,  not  only  among 
the  dancers  themselves,  but  even  those  who  sat  out  and  talked, 
either  from  preference  or  because  the  sets  were  full.  Percy, 
his  brother,  and  cousin,  were  so  active,  so  universal  in  their 
attention  and  politeness,  that  all  had  the  same  measure  of 
enjoyment ;  there  was  no  sitting  down  four  or  five  times  con- 
secutively for  any  one,  and  therefore  neither  weariness  nor 
dissatisfaction.  Where  there  is  a  great  desire  in  the  givers 
of  a  party  to  make  every  one  as  happy  as  themselves,  and 
thoroughly  to  enjoy  it,  they  seldom  fail  to  succeed.  And  there 
was  such  a  variety  of  amusements  in  the  various  rooms  that 
were  thrown  open,  suitable  for  all  ages  —  from  the  mammas 
and  papas  to  the  youngest  child,  that  it  was  scarcely  possible 
to  feel  any  thing  but  pleasure.  Very  many  sets  had  been 
formed  and  danced  before  the  Grahame  family  appeared,  and 
as  Caroline  glanced  at  her  friend  and  even  at  her  little  sister, 
it  required  a  very  vivid  recollection  of  her  father's  words  to 
prevent  a  feeling  of  false  shame,  while  Annie  looked  at  Em- 
ineline  and  even  her  favorite  Caroline  for  a  few  minutes  with 
almost  contempt. 

"  People  talk  so  very  much  of  Mrs.  Hamilton's  taste,"  she 
thought,  "but  she  can  have  n  me  in  dress,  that's  certain  —  why 
no  one  could  distinguish  her  daughters  from  the  poorest  gen- 
deman's  here!  —  But  no  one  can  mistake  my  rank.  Thank 
goodness,  there  is  not  a  dress  like  mine  —  how  it  will  be  en- 
vied!" 

If  looks  were  evidence  of  envy,  Annie  had  thorn  to  liei 
heart's  ontent,  but  how  would  she  have  been  mortified,  coiihi 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  171 

ehe  have  rend  the  secret  meaning  of  those  looks,  the  contrast 
drawn  be -ween  the  manners  and  appearance  of  Lady  Helen's 
daughters  and  those  of  the  Honorable  Mrs.  Hamilton.  Lady 
Helen  herself,  indeed,  when  she  saw  Caroline  and  Emmeline, 
was  quitt)  provoked  that  she  had  been  so  weak  as  to  permit, 
mid  even  encourage  Annie,  tt>  select  her  own  and  her  sister'e 
costume. 

"  You  are  so  late,"  said  Mrs.  Hamilton,  as  she  came  forward 
to  greet  them,  "  that  I  almost  gave  you  up,  fearing  I  don't 
exactly  know  what.  I  do  hope  nothing  unpleasant  has  occa- 
sioned it." 

"  Oh  no,"  was  Mr.  Grahame's  reply,  and  it  was  almost  bit- 
ter; "  only  Miss  Grahame  was  so  dreadfully  afraid  oftTeing 
tmfashionably  early,  that  her  mother  did  not  choose  to  come 
before  —  indeed,  my  patience  and  my  little  Lilla's  was  so  ex- 
hausted that  we  thought  of  leaving  Cecil  to  be  their  beau,  and 
coming  alone  an  hour  ago."  Lady  Helen's  look  of  entreaty  at 
Mrs.  Hamilton  was  answered  by  her  saying  directly  — 

"  I  suppose  Annie  was  thinking  of  her  London  parties,  and 
forgot  how  completely  Gothic  we  are  as  to  hours  and  every 
tiling  else  in  Devonshire.  But  you  must  try  and  forget  such 
superior  pleasures  to-night,  my  dear  girl,"  she  added,  jestingly, 
though  the  young  lady  felt  it  rather  uncomfortably  as  earnest, 
"  or  I  fear  you  will  find  but  little  amusement."  Alfred  Gre- 
ville  at  that  moment  came  to  claim  Annie  as  his  partner,  and 
she  gladly  joined  him,  for  though  Mrs.  Hamilton  had  "  cer- 
tainly no  taste  in  dress,"  she  never  felt  quite  at  her  ease  in 
her  presence.  Cecil  and  Lilla  were  soon  provided  with  little 
partners,  and  dancing  with  much  more  real  delight  than  their 
sister. 

It  was  scarcely  possible  for  any  one,  much  less  a  parent,  to 
look  at  Caroline  that  night  without  admiration.  She  was  so 
animated,  so  graceful,  so  pleasing,  and  as  such  completely  the 
centre  of  attraction  (and  really  without  any  effort  on  her  part) 
to  all  the  gentlemen,  young  or  old,  in  the  room.  The  lads 
congregated  round  her,  and  it  was  rather  a  difficult  task  to 
keep  clear  of  offence,  when  so  very  many  more  entreated  her 
to  dance  than  the  length  of  the  evening  permitted ;  but  she 
managed  to  talk  to  all,  and  yet  not  to  neglect  any  of  her  own 
sex,  for  she  always  refused  to  dance,  if  she  fancied  her  being 
in  a  quadrille  prevented  any  couple  who  had  not  danced  so 
much,  and  at  those  times  contrived  to  conciliate  five  or  six  in- 
stead of  only  one.  Emmeline  took  charge  of  the  younger  child- 
ren, often  refusing  to  dance  with  older  boys,  who  would  have 


172  HOME    INFLUENCE. 

made  her  much  pleasanter  partners,  that  she  might  join  tiie 
little  quadrille  and  set  them  all  right. 

"  I  am  really  glad  to  see  Ellen  among  us  to-night,  and  seem- 
ing truly  to  enjoy  herself,"  said  Mrs.  Greville,  addressing  Mrs 
Hamilton,  who  was  standing  rather  apart  at  the  moment,  watch- 
ing Caroline  with  such  mingled  'feelings  of  pride  and  dread, 
that  she  was  quite  glad  when  her  friend's  voice  disturbed  her 
train  of  thought.  "  She  looked  so  ill  in  church  yesterday,  that 
I  half  feared  we  should  not  see  her.  I  told  her  I  was  quite 
grieved  that  she  was  too  unwell  to  be  at  Mr.  Howard's  last 
Friday,  and  —  " 

"  What  did  she  say  ?  "  inquired  Mrs.  Hamilton,  anxiously. 

"  That  it  was  not  illness  which  prevented  her ;  but  she  looked 
so  confused  and  pained  that  I  changed  the  subject  directly,  and 
the  smile  soon  came  back." 

"You  touched  on  a  very  painful  theme,"  replied  Mrs.  Hamil- 
ton, with  real  relief;  "Ellen  and  I  were  not  quite  as  good 
friends  as  we  usually  are,  last  week,  and  my  poor  little  girl  felt 
my  severity  more  than  I  imagined  or  meant.  I  gave  her  to 
your  dear  Mary's  especial  care  to-night,  for  she  is  so  timid,  that 
left  quite  to  herself,  I  was  afraid  it  would  be  more  pain  than 
pleasure.  Mary  has  taken  my  hint  most  admirable,  for  Ellen 
seems  quite  happy." 

"  It  would  be  rather  hard,  if  your  little  niece's  were  the  only 
sad  face  in  this  scene  of  enjoyment ;  surely,  if  ever  there  were 
happiness  without  alloy,  it  is  here." 

"If  you  think  so,  Mrs.  Greville,  you  will  agree  with  my  friend 
Morton,  who  has  just  been  half  poetizing,  half  philosophizing  on 
this  scene,"  said  Mr.  Hamilton  joining  them,  with  the  young 
clergyman  leaning  on  his  arm.  "  He  says  there  is  something 
singularly  interesting  in  watching  the  countenances  and  move- 
ments of  children,  and  in  tracing  the  dawnings  of  respective 
characters." 

"  You  are  not  one  of  those,  then,  who  think  childhood  a  mere 
negative  species  of  existence,"  rejoined  Mrs.  Greville. 

"Indeed  I  do  not;  there  is  much  more  pleasure  to  me  in 
watching  such  a  scene,  than  a  similar  one  of  adults.  It  is  full 
of  that  kind  of  poetry,  which,  from  the  beauty  and  freshness  of 
the  present,  creates  a  future  of  happiness  or  sorrow,  good  or 
evil,  as  something  in  each  countenance  seems  dimly  to  foretell. 
How  many  will  be  the  longing  thoughts  thrown  back  in  after 
years  upon  to-night!" 

"Do  you  think,  then,  childhood  the  happiest  season  of  life?" 

He  answered  in  the  affirmative,  but  Mr.  Hamilton  shook  his 
head. 


HOME    INFLUENCE.  17  3 

"  1  differ  from  you,  my  good  friend,"  he  said.  "  Childhood 
feels  its  griefs  as  bitterly  as  those  of  maturer  years.  We  are 
apt  to  think  it  was  all  joy  in  the  retrospect,  perhaps  because  it 
has  not  the  anxiety  and  cares  of  riper  years,  but  sorrow  itself 
is  felt  as  keenly.  From  reason  not  being  perfectly  formed,  the 
difficulty  to  control  self-will,  to  acquiesce  in  the  to  them  incom- 
prehensible wishes  of  parents  or  guardians,  the  restraint  they 
are  often  compelled  to  use,  must  be  all  trials  even  to  well-regu- 
lated children,  and  to  those  subject  to  the  caprices  of  weakness, 
indolence,  neglect,  indulgence  at  one  time,  and  tyranny  at  an- 
other, feelings  disbelieved  in,  and  therefore  never  studied  or 
soothed  —  the  little  heart  thrown  back  upon  itself —  Morton, 
believe  me,  these  are  trials  as  full  of  suffering,  and  as  hard  to 
be  endured,  as  those  which  belong  to  manhood." 

"  You  may  be  right,"  replied  Morton ;  "  but  do  you  not  think 
there  is  an  elasticity  in  childhood  which  flings  off  sorrow,  and 
can  realize  happiness  sooner  than  older  years  ?  " 

"  Undoubtedly,  and  most  happy  it  is  that  they  are  so  consti- 
tuted, else  what  would  become  of  them?  their  susceptibilities 
for  either  joy  or  sorrow  are  equally  quick.  If  the  former  did 
not  balance  the  latter,  how  would  their  tender  frames  and  quick 
affections  bear  their  burden?  The  idea  that  childhood  is  in 
itself  the  happiest  season  in  life  is  so  far  mischievous,  that  it 
prevents  the  necessary  care  and  watchfulness,  which  alone  can 
make  it  so.  But  we  must  not  philosophize  any  more,  for  it  has 
made  us  all  grave.  I  see  my  wife  is  addressing  Miss  Grahame, 
and  I  think  it  is  for  music.  Come,  Morton,  take  Mrs.  Greville 
to  the  music-room,  and  woo  melody  instead  of  poetry  for  the 
next  half  hour.  Miss  Grahame  promises  to  be  a  very  fair  mu- 
sician, so  you  will  be  charmed." 

They  adjourned  to  the  music-room,  where  Percy  had  already 
gallantly  conducted  Annie  ;  and  several  of  the  guests,  young  and 
old,  seconded  the  move.  Annie  Grahame  really  played  re- 
markably well,  so  far  as  execution  and  brilliancy  were  con- 
cerned, and  Mrs.  Hamilton  was  delighted  at  the  expression  of 
Grahame's  face  as  he  listened  to  his  child  and  the  applause  she 
excited.  "  Why  will  he  not  try  to  win  his  home-affections,"  she 
thought,  "  when  he  is  so  formed  to  enjoy  them  ?  and  why,  why 
has  Helen  so  indolently,  so  foolishly  cast  away  her  happiness  ?  '' 
was  the  thought  that  follovred  at  the  contrast  which  Lady 
Helen's  face  presented  to  l,er  husbar  d's  ;  she  knew  Anni«j 
played  well,  she  had  heard  it  from  very  superior  judges,  an<] 
how  could  it  concern  her  what  the  present  company  thought  ? 

A  very  pretty  vocal  duet  from  the  two  sister*  followed,  ar.J 
9 


174  HOME   INFLUENCE 

goon  afterward  Caroline  approached  the  music-stand,  nca: 
which  Percy  and  Mr.  Morton  were  talking,  and  Percy,  witL 
his  usual  love  of  provoking,  exclaimed  — 

"You  surely  are  not  going  to  play  after  Miss  Grahame, 
Caroline.  If  your  powers  deserted  you  a  few  hours  ago,  and 
prevented  the  execution  of  a  waltz,  they  would  certainly  do 
you  a  charity  in  deserting  you  completely  now." 

Caroline's  cheek  burned,  but  she  answered,  with  spirit  — 

"  Mamma  desired  me  to  oblige  my  friends,  Percy  ;  and  she 
would  not  do  so,  if  she  thought  I  should  disgrace  myself  or 
her." 

"  Do  not  heed  your  brother,  Miss  Hamilton,"  interposed  Mr. 
Morton,  taking  the  music  from  her,  and  offering  her  his  arm  to 
lead  her  to  the  piano.  "  I  have  had  the  pleasure  of  hearing 
you  often,  and  those  who  cannot  find  an  equal,  if  not  superior 
charm  in  your  playing  to  Miss  Grahame's  do  not  deserve  to 
listen." 

"  Nay,  you  must  be  flattering,  Mr.  Morton  ;  think  of  Annie's 
advantages." 

"  Indeed,  my  dear  Miss  Hamilton,  yours  exceed  hers  ;  no 
master's  heart  is  in  his  pupil's  progress,  as  a  mother's  in  her 
child's,  even  should  she  not  teach,  but  merely  superintend." 

Caroline  was  seated  at  the  instrument  as  he  spoke,  and  there 
was  something  in  his  few  words  touching  a  right  chord  ;  for  as 
she  began  to  play  she  certainly  thought  more  of  her  mother 
than  any  one  else ;  and  determined,  if  possible,  that  others 
should  think  with  Mr.  Morton,  forgetting  at  the  moment  that 
very  few,  except  their  own  immediate  circle,  knew  whose  pupil 
she  was,  not  imagining  that  the  mistress  of  Oakwood  and  its 
large  possessions  could  have  time  or  inclination  for  any  part  of 
the  education  of  her  daughters.  Morton  was  certainly  right 
as  to  the  amount  of  admiration,  equalling,  if  not  surpassing, 
that  bestowed  on  Miss  Grahame  ;  there  was  a  soul,  a  depth  of 
expression  and  feeling,  in  Caroline's  far  simpler  piece,  that  won 
its  way  to  the  heart  at  once,  and  if  it  did  not  surprise  as  much, 
it  pleased  more,  and  excited  an  earnest  wish  to  listen  to  her 
again. 

"  Does  not  your  younger  daughter  play?"  inquired  a  lady, 
who  had  been  much  attracted  with  Emmeline. 

"  Very  little,  compared  with  her  sister,"  replied  Mrs.  ILimil 
ton ;  she  is  not  nearly  so  fond  of  it,  and  therefore  does  not 
devote  so  much  time  to  its  acquirement  just  yet." 

"  Do  you  think  it  right  to  permit  children  to  follow  heir  owe 
inclinations  with  regard  to  their  education?"  askc('  anothn*. 
nvther  stern-looking  !:uly,  with  much  surprise. 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  175 

uOnly  with  regard  to  their  accomplishments  ;  my  Emmeliiic 
is  as  fond  of  drawing  as  Caroline  is  of  music,  and  therefore  I 
indulge  her  by  permitting  her  to  give  more  time  to  the  one 
than  to  the  other." 

"  But  do  you  think  natural  taste  can  be  traced  so  early  ?  that 
it  can  be  distinguished  from  idleness  or  perverseness  ?  " 

"  Indeed,  I  do,"  replied  Mrs.  Hamilton,  earnestly.  "  If  a 
child  be  allowed  leisure  to  choose  its  own  pursuits,  and  not 
always  confined  to  the  routine  of  a  schoolroom,  natural  taste 
for  some  employment  in  preference  to  another  will,  I  think 
always  display  itself.  Not  that  I  would  depend  entirely  on  that, 
because  I  think  it  right  and  useful  to  cultivate  a  taste  for  all  the 
fine  arts,  only  giving  more  time  to  that  which  is  the  favorite. 
My  niece  has  shown  "no  decided  taste  for  any  particular  pursuit 
yet ;  but  I  do  not  neglect  the  cultivation  of  accomplishments  on 
that  account ;  if,  in  a  few  years,  a  preference  manifests  itself, 
it  will  be  quite  time  enough  to  work  hard  at  that  particular 
branch." 

"  Is  that  pretty  little  harp  used  by  either  of  your  daughters  ?  " 
inquired  the  first  speaker.  "  It  looks  very  much  as  if  it  were 
the  especial  property  of  my  engaging  little  friend." 

"  Your  guess  is  correct,"  replied  Mrs.  Hamilton,  smiling. 
"  Emmeline  was  quite  sure  she  should  hate  music,  if  she  must 
learn  the  great  ugly  piano.  If  she  might  only  have  a  harp,  she 
would  do  all  she  could  to  learn,  and  she  really  has." 

"  And  may  we  not  hear  her  ?  " 

"  When  the  room  is  not  quite  so  full ;  she  has  not  half  her 
sister's  confidence,  and  so  large  an  audience  would  frighten 
away  all  her  little  powers ;  but  I  will  promise  you  a  very  sweet 
song  instead,"  she  added,  as  Herbert  approached,  and  eagerly 
whispered  some  request.  "  That  is,  if  my  persuasions  can  pre- 
vail on  my  young  friend ;  Mrs.  Greville,  must  I  ask  your  in- 
fluence, or  will  mine  be  enough  ?  " 

"  What,  with  Mary  ?  I  rather  think,  your  request  in  this 
;ase  will  be  of  more  weight  than  mine ;  "  and  a  few  minutes 
afterward  Mrs.  Hamilton  led  the  blushing,  timid  girl  in  triumph 
to  the  piano.  Her  voice,  which  was  peculiarly  sweet  and  thrill- 
ing, though  not  strong,  trembled  audibly  as  she  commenced  ; 
but  Herbert  was  turning  over  the  leaves  of  her  music,  his  mo- 
ther was  standing  close  beside  her,  and  after  the  first  few  bars 
her  enthusiastic  spirit  forgot  the  presence  of  all,  save  those  she 
loved,  and  the  spirit  of  her  song. 

Mrs.  Hamilton  never  listened  to  and  looked  at  her  at  such 
moments  without  a  trembling  foreboding  she  vainly  struggled 


176  HOME   INFLUENCE. 

to  overcome.  There  was  something  in  those  dee}  blue,  earned 
eyes,  the  hectic  color  that  with  the  least  exertion  rose  to  her 
cheek,  the  transparency  of  complexion,  the  warm  and  elevated 
spirit,  the  almost  angel  temper  and  endurance  in  her  peculiarly 
tried  lot,  that  scarcely  seemed  of  earth ;  and  never  was  that 
sad  foreboding  stronger  than  at  that  moment,  as  she  looked 
round  the  crowd  of  young  and  happy  faces,  and  none  seemed 
to  express  the  same  as  Mary's.  She  could  scarcely  command 
her  voice  and  smile  sufficiently  to  warmly  thank  her  young 
favorite  as  she  ceased ;  but  Mary  was  more  than  satisfied  by 
the  fond  pressure  of  her  hand. 

This  little  interruption  to  the  actual  business  of  the  evening 
only  increased  the  zest  and  enjoyment,  when  dancing  recom- 
menced. Even  the  call  to  supper  was  obeyed  with  reluctance, 
and  speedily  accomplished,  that  they  might  return  the  sooner 
to  the  ball-room.  The  hours  had  worn  away,  it  seemed,  on 
gossamer-wings,  and  as  each  happy  child  felt  assured  that  the 
delight  could  not  last  much  longer,  the  longing  to  dance  to  the 
very  last  moment  seemed  to  increase.  Emmeline's  excitable 
spirit  had  thrown  off  all  alloy,  for  it  was  quite  impossible  any 
one  would  think  of  asking  her  to  play  now  ;  she  had  arranged 
all  the  remaining  couples  —  for  the  room  had  begun  very  much 
to  thin  —  for  the  favorite  haymaker's  country  dance,*  and  ac- 
cepting Edward  as  her  own  partner,  and  being  unanimously 
desired  to  take  the  top,  led  off  her  young  friends  with  such 
spirit  and  grace,  and  so  little  semblance  of  fatigue,  that  it  cer- 
tainly appeared  as  if  she  would  verify  her  own  words,  acd 
dance  all  night. 

Miss  Grahame  had  declared  it  was  much  too  great  a  romp, 
and  declined  joining  it.  Caroline,  who  would  have  enjoyed  it, 
more  out  of  politeness  to  her  friend  than  inclination,  sat  down 
with  her,  and  a  cheerful  group  of  some  of  the  older  lads,  and 
one  or  two  young  ladies,  joined  them.  Herbert  and  Mary  find- 
ing the  quadrille  for  which  they  were  engaged,  changed  to  a 
dance  for  which,  though  they  had  quite  the  spirit,  they  had  not 
the  physical  strength,  enjoyed  a  quiet  chat  instead,  and  Ellen 
seated  herself  by  her  favorite  Mary,  declining,  from  fatigue, 
Alfred  Greville's  entreaty  that  she  would  second  Emmeline. 

"  I  declare  I  could  dance  myself  with  that  merry  group," 
exclaimed  Mr.  Grahame,  after  watching  them  some  time,  and 
all  lu's  austerity  banished  by  the  kindly  spirit  of  the  evening. 

*  A  country  dance,  the  author  believes,  peculiar  tc  Devonshire,  for  she  liiv. 
.icvcr  seen  it  danced  elsewhere. 


HOME  INFLUENCE.  177 

*  Mrs.  Hamilton,  Mrs.  Greville,  do  one  of  you  take  pitj  on 
me,  and  indulge  my  fancy." 

Both  ladies  laughingly  begged  to  be  excused,  offering,  how- 
ever, to  introduce  him  to  a  partner. 

"  No ;  it  must  be  one  of  you  or  none  at  all.  That  little 
sylph  of  yours,  Mrs.  Hamilton,  seems  inclined  to  dance  for  you 
and  herself  too.  What  a  pretty  couple  she  and  that  handsome 
cousin  of  hers  make  !  And  there  goes  my  little  Lilla  —  I  do 
hope  I  may  have  one  really  happy  child.  What,  tired,  Percy  — 
compelled  to  give  up  —  absolutely  exhausted  ?  " 

"  Indeed  I  am,"  answered  Percy,  who  had  waltzed  his  part- 
ner very  cleverly  out  of  the  line,  and,  after  giving  her  a  seat, 
threw  himself  on  a  large  ottoman. 

"  Mother,  if  you  do  not  put  a  stop  to  Emmeline's  proceed- 
ings, her  strength  will  entirely  fail,  and  down  she  and  Edward 
will  go,  and  the  rest  follow,  just  like  a  pack  of  cards.  Do, 
pray,  prevent  such  a  catastrophe,  for  I  assure  you  it  is  not  in 
the  least  unlikely." 

The  gravity  with  which  he  spoke  caused  a  general  laugh ; 
but  Mrs.  Hamilton,  feeling  by  the  length  of  time  the  fatiguing 
•lance  had  lasted,  there  was  really  some  truth  in  his  words,  de- 
sired the  musicians  to  stop  ;  causing  an  exclamation  of  regret 
and  disappointment  from  many  youthful  lips,  and  Emmeline 
and  Edward  ran  up  to  her,  to  entreat  that  they  might  go  on  a 
little  longer.  Mrs.  Hamilton,  however,  refused  ;  and  Edward 
yielded  directly,  but  Emmeline  was  so  much  excited,  that  obedi- 
ence was  most  unusually  difficult ;  and  when  her  mother  desired 
her  to  sit  down  quietly  for  ten  minutes,  and  then  come  to  the 
music-room,  as  Mrs.  Allan  most  particularly  wished  to  hear 
her  play  before  she  left,  she  answered,  with  more  petulance 
than  she  was  at  all  aware  of — 

"  I  am  sure  I  cannot  play  a  note  now  —  it  will  be  no  use 
trying." 

"  Emmeline ! "  exclaimed  her  mother,  adding,  gravely,  "  I 
am  afraid  you  have  danced  too  much,  instead  of  not  enough." 

The  tone,  still  more  than  the  words,  was  enough ;  poor  Em- 
meline was  just  in  that  mood  when  tears  are  quite  as  near  as 
smiles ;  her  own  petulance  seemed  to  reproach  her  too,  and 
she  suddenly  burst  into  tears.  Many  exclamations  of  sym- 
pathy and  condolence  burst  from  her  mother's  friends: — • 
"  Poor  child !  "  "  She  has  over-tired  herself!  "  "  We  cannot 
expect  her  to  play  now  !  "  —  but  Mrs.  Greville  saying,  with  a 
smile,  that  her  little  friend's  tears  were  always  the  very  lightest 
April  showers,  successfully  turned  the  attention  of  many  from 


178  HOME    INFLUENCE. 

her;  while  Mrs.  Hamilton  taking  her  hand  from  her  face, 
-merely  said,  in  a  low  voice  — 

"  Do  not  make  me  more  ashamed  of  you,  Emmeline.  What 
would  papa  think  if  he  were  to  see  you  now  ?  "  Her  little  girl's 
only  answer  was  to  bury  her  face  still  more  closely  in  her 
mother's  d»  ass,  very  much  as  if  she  would  like  to  hide  herself 
entirely ;  but  on  Mrs.  Allan  saying,  very  kindly  — 

"  Do  not  distress  yourself,  my  dear.  I  would  not  have  asked 
to  hear  you  play,  if  I  had  thought  you  would  dislike  it  so 
much.  I  dare  say  you  arc  very  tired,  and  so  think  you  will 
not  succeed." 

She  raised  her  head  directly,  shook  back  the  fair  ringlets 
that  had  fallen  over  her  face,  and  though  the  tears  were  still  on 
her  cheeks  and  filling  her  eyes,  she  said,  with  a  blending  of 
childish  shyness  and  yet  courageous  truth,  impossible  to  be 
described  — 

"No,  ma'am,  I  am  not  too  tired  to  play — I  did  not  cry  from 
fatigue,  but  because  I  was  angry  with  mamma  for  not  letting 
me  dance  any  more,  and  angry  with  myself  for  answering  her 
EO  pettishly ;  and  because  —  because  —  I  thought  she  was  dis- 
pleased, and  that  I  deserved  it." 

"Then  come  and  redeem  your  character,"  was  Mrs.  Hamil- 
ton's only  notice  of  a  reply  that  actually  made  her  heart  throb 
with  thankfulness,  that  her  lessons  of  truth  were  so  fully  under- 
stood and  practised  by  one  naturally  so  gentle  and  timid  as  her 
Emmeline:  while  Mrs.  Allan  knew  not  what  to  ansAver,  from 
a  feeling  of  involuntary  respect.  It  would  have  been  so  easy 
to  escape  a  disagreeable  task  by  tacitly  allowing  that  she  was 
too  tired  to  play;  and  what  careful  training  must  it  have  been 
to  have  so  taught  truth. 

Mrs.  Allan  would  not  ask  you  before,  because  she  knew  you 
did  not  like  to  play  while  the  room  was  so  very  full ;  therefore, 
ought  you  not  to  do  your  very  best  to  oblige  her?  " 

Emmeline  looked  timidly  up  in  her  mother's  face  to  be  quite 
sure  that  her  displeasure  had  subsided,  as  her  words  seemed  to 
denote;  and  quite  satisfied,  her  tears  were  all  checked,  and 
taking  Mrs.  Allan's  offered  hand,  she  went  directly  to  the 
music-room. 

Mrs.  Hamilton  lingered  to  desire  Herbert  (who  had  come  up 
to  know  the  cause  of  his  sister's  sudden  tears)  to  form  the  last 
quadrille,  and  reserve  a  place,  if  he  possibly  could,  for  Emme- 
line, as  they  would  not  begin  till  she  had  done.  Her  little  girl 
was  playing  as  she  rejoined  her,  and  it  really  was  a  pretty 
picture,  her  fairy  figure  with  her  tiny  harp,  and  her  B\veet  fact' 


HOME    INFLUENCE.  17'J 

weming  to  express  the  real  feeling  with  which  she  played. 
There  was  oo  execution  in  the  simple  Highland  air,  but  her 
vivid  imagination  lent  it  a  meaning,  and  so,  when  fairly  playing, 
she  did  not  mind  it.  Mrs.  Allan  had  lost  a  little  girl  just  at 
Emmeline'd  age,  who  had  also  played  the  harp,  and  there  was 
something  in  her  caress  and  thanks,  after  she  had  done,  that 
made  Emmeline  stand  quietly  at  her  side,  without  heeding  the 
praises  that  were  lavished  round  her.  Herbert  at  that  moment 
appeared  with  one  of  the  young  Allans. 

"  Come,  Emmy,  we  are  only  waiting  for  you  ;  Mr.  Allan 
says  you  have  not  favored  him  to-night,  and  he  hopes  you  wili 
now." 

"  Pray,  do,"  added  Mrs.  Allan,  as  her  son  gayly  pleaded  his 
own  cause ;  Emmeline  only  waited  to  read  her  mother's  con- 
sent in  her  eyes,  for  she  thought  that  she  ought  not  to  dance 
any  more;  and  in  another  minute  the  joyous  music  had  re- 
sounded, and  she  was  dancing  and  chatting  as  gayly  and  hap- 
pily as  if  there  had  been  no  interruption  to  her  joy. 

k'And  you  Avill  leave  all  these  delights  to  imprison  yourself 
in  a  man-of-war  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Grahame,  jestingly,  of  Edward, 
while  waiting  for  his  wife  and  daughters,  who  were  the  last 
departures,  (much  to  Annie's  horror,  for  it  was  so  unfashionable 
to  be  quite  the  last,)  to  be  cloaked  and  shawled. 

"  Imprison ! "  was  his  very  indignant  reply,  "  and  on  the 
wide,  free,  glorious  ocean!  flying  on  the  wings  of  the  wind 
wherever  we  please,  and  compelling  the  flag  of  every  land  to 
acknowledge  ours!  No,  Mr.  Grahame;  you  landsmen  don't 
know  what  liberty  is,  if  you  talk  of  imprisonment  in  a  ship ! 
We  take  our  home  wherever  we  go,  which  you  landsmen  can- 
not do,  though  you  do  so  poetize  on  the  maternal  properties  of 
Old  Mother  Earth." 

"Only  hear  him,  Hamilton,"  exclaimed  Grahame,  laughing 
heartily;  "any  one  would  think  he  had  been  a  sailor  all  his 
little  life.  You  talk  boldly  now,  my  boy,  but  you  may  change 
your  tone  when  you  have  once  tried  the  cockpit." 

"I  do  not  think  I  shall,"  answered  Edward,  earnestly;  "1 
know  there  are  many  hardships,  and  I  dare  say  I  shall  find 
them  more  disagreeable  than  I  can  possibly  imagine ;  but  I 
^hall  get  used  to  them ;  it  is  so  cowardly  to  care  for  hardships.'" 

"And  is  it  no  grief  to  give  up  all  the  pleasures  of  land  ?  " 

"  I  exchange  them  for  others  more  delightful  still." 

"And  the  sea  is  to  be  your  sister,  uncle,  aunt,  and  cousins  — 
Utogether  ? " 

"Yes  all,"  replied  Edward,  laughing;  adding,  as  he  put  his 


180  HOME    INFLUENCE. 

arm  affectionately  round  Ellen,  "my  sister  has  so  many  kind 
friends  that  she  will  be  able  to  spare  me  till  I  am  old  enough  to 
do  all  a  brother  ought." 

"  You  are  a  good  fellow,  Edward,  and  I  see  I  must  not  talk 
of  parting,  if  I  would  preserve  this  evening's  pleasure  unalloy- 
ed," Grahame  said,  as  he  laid  his  hand  kindly  on  Ellen's  head, 
and  then  turned  to  obey  the  summons  of  his  wife. 

The  young  party,  no  doubt,  felt  that  it  would  be  infinitely 
more  agreeable  to  sit  up  all  night,  and  talk  of  the  only  too 
quickly  concluded  enjoyment,  than  to  retire  to  their  respective 
pillows ;  but  the  habits  of  Oakwood  were  somewhat  too  well 
regulated  for  such  dissipation,  though,  no  doubt,  their  dream- 
land that  night,  was  peopled  with  the  pleasant  shadows  of 
reality,  and,  according  to  their  respective  sources  of  enjoyment, 
brought  back  their  evening's  happiness  again  and  again. 


CHAPTER    XII. 

EFFECTS    OF    PLEASURE. THE    YOUNG    MIDSHIPMAN. ILL 

TEMPER,    ITS    ORIGIN    AND    CONSEQUENCES. 

THE  return  to  the  quiet  routine  of  work,  and  less  exciting 
recreation  after  the  Christmas  pleasures,  was  of  course  a  trial 
to  all  our  young  friends.  Not  so  much  to  the  boys,  as  to  their 
sisters ;  Percy's  elastic  spirits  found  pleasure  in  every  thing, 
being  somewhat  too  old  to  care  for  his  studies,  or  feel  them  now 
as  a  restraint.  Herbert  only  exchanged  one  kind  of  happiness 
for  another.  Edward  looked  to  every  month  that  passed,  aa 
bringing  nearer  the  attainment  of  his  wishes ;  and  he  was  so 
fond  of  Mr.  Howard,  and  so  quick  at  learning,  and  such  a  fa- 
vorite with  all  his  schoolfellows,  that  he  did  not  care  at  all  when 
the  time  of  work  came  again.  Ellen  and  Emmeline  both  found 
it  very  difficult  to  like  their  lessons  again ;  especially  the  latter, 
who  felt  as  if  work  and  regularity  were  most  particularly  dis- 
ugreeable  things,  and  sometimes  was  almost  in  despair  as  to  her 
ever  enjoying  them  again ;  but  she  tried  very  hard  to  overcome 
indolence,  and  never  give  way  to  petulance,  and  succeeded,  so 
us  to  win  her  the  delight  of  both  her  parents'  approbation.  In- 
dulgence always  made  her  feel  as  if  no  effort  on  her  part  was 
loo  great  to  prove  how  much  she  felt  it ;  and  when  anyone,  old 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  18i 

n  young,  experiences  this  sort  of  feeling,  they  need  never  be 
afraid  but  that  they  will  succeed  in  their  efforts,  painful  and 
hard  as  they  may  at  first  seem.  It  was  not  so  difficult  for  El- 
len as  for  Emmeline,  because  she  was  less  able  to  realize  such 
an  intensity  of  pleasure.  She  seemed  safer  when  regularly 
,  employed ;  and  besides,  to  work  hard  at  her  respective  studies, 
was  one  of  the  very  few  things  which  she  could  do  to  prove 
how  much  she  loved  her  aunt;  and  accustomed  from  such  early 
childhood  to  conquer  inclination,  and,  in  fact,  never  to  fancy 
pleasure  and  indulgence  were  her  due,  there  was  happiness 
enough  for  her  even  in  their  more  regular  life :  but  to  Caroline 
the  change  was  actually  unbearable.  While  admiration  and 
praise  only  incited  Emmeline  to  greater  exertions,  they  caused 
Caroline  completely  to  relax  in  hers,  and  to  give,  in  conse- 
quence, as  much  trouble  and  annoyance  as  she  had  received 
pleasure.  The  perseverance  in  her  various  studies,  especially 
in  music,  the  unceasing  control  over  her  temper,  which  before 
the  holidays  she  had  so  striven  for,  had  now  entirely  given  way. 
It  was  much  less  trouble  for  her  to  learn  than  Emmeline,  there 
fore  her  studies  with  Miss  Harcourt  were  generally  well  per- 
formed; bnt  the  admiration  she  had  excited  made  her  long  for 
more,  and  believe  herself  a  person  deserving  much  more  con- 
sideration and  respect  than  she  received  from  her  own  family 
These  thoughts  persisted  in,  of  course  produced  and  retained 
til-temper ;  which,  as  there  was  no  longer  any  fear  of  her  being 
debarred  by  its  indulgence  from  any  pleasure,  she  made  no  at- 
tempt to  overcome.  The  praise  bestowed  on  her  music,  made 
her  fancy  herself  a  much  greater  proficient  than  she  really  was, 
and  though  her  love  of  music  was  great,  her  love  of  praise  wus 
greater;  and  so  she  not  only  relaxed  in  her  practice,  but 
inwardly  murmured  at  the  very  little  praise  she  received  from 
her  mother. 

"How  can  you  give  mamma  so  much  trouble,  Caroline, 
when  you  know  you  can  do  so  much  better?"  Herbert  ex- 
claimed, one  day,  when  an  attack  of  weakness,  to  which  he  was 
liable,  had  confined  him  to  a  sofa. 

Mrs.  Hamilton,  after  giving  her  usual  hour's  lesson,  in  which 
Caroline  had  chosen  to  do  nothing,  had  left  her  in  very  evident 
displeasure,  and  even  Herbert  was  roused  to  most  unusual 
'.ndigr.ation. 

"  What  is  the  use   of  practising  day  after  day  ? "  was  Lev 
angry  reply ;  "  I  am  sure  I  should  play  just  as  well  if  I  prov 
•jsed  less." 

"  You  did  not  think  so  a  month  ago,  Caroline." 


lf>-  HOMK   INFLUENCE. 

"  No,  because  then  I  had  sometliing  to  piactise  for." 

"  And  have  you  nothing  now  ?  —  Is  mamma's  approbation 
nothing  ?  —  Is  the  pleasure  you  give  all  of  us,  by  your  talent 
foi  music,  nothing  ?  — -  Oh,  Caroline,  why  will  you  throw  away 
so  much  real  gratification,  for  the  vain  desire  of  universal  ad- 
uiirati  ~>n  ?  " 

"  There  surely  can  be  no  harm,  Herbert,  in  wishing  to  be 
universally  loved  and  admired." 

"  There  is,  when  it  makes  you  discontented  and  unhappy, 
iind  blind  to  the  love  and  admiration  of  your  home.  What  is 
I  he  praise  of  strangers  worth,  compared  to  that  of  those  who 
love  you  best?  " 

" There  is  not  much  chance  of  my  receiving  either  at  pre- 
sent," was  the  cold  reply. 

"  Because  you  will  not  try  for  the  one  most  easily  and  happily 
obtained  and  even  without  thinking  of  praise,  how  can  you 
be  so  ungrateful,  as  to  repay  all  mamma's  care  and  trouble  by 
the  indolence,  coldness,  and  almost  insolence,  you  have  shoAvr; 
to-day  ?  How  few  mothers  of  her  rank  would  —  " 

"  You  may  spare  your  sermon,  Herbert ;  for  at  this  moment 
I  am  not  disposed  either  to  listen  to  or  profit  by  it,"  interrupted 
Caroline,  and  she  left  the  room  in  anger.  A  faint  flush  rose  to 
the  pale  cheek  of  her  brother,  but  he  quickly  conquered  the 
natural  irritation,  and  sought  his  mother,  by  every  fond  atten- 
tion on  his  part,  to  remove  the  pain  of  Caroline's  conduct. 

This  continued  for  about  a  fortnight,  at  the  end  of  which 
time,  Caroline  suddenly  resumed  her  music  with  assiduity,  and 
there  were  no  more  ebullitions  of  ill-temper.  Herbert  hoped 
his  expostulations  were  taking  effect ;  Mrs.  Hamilton  trusted 
that  her  child  was  becoming  sensible  of  her  past  folly,  and  try- 
ing to  conquer  it,  and  banish  its  memory  herself:  both,  how- 
ever, were  mistaken.  Annie  Grahame  had  imparted  to  her 
friend,  in  strict  confidence,  that  her  mother  intended  giving  a 
grand  ball  about  the  end  of  February,  and  meant  to  entreat 
Mrs.  Hamilton,  as  a  personal  favor,  to  let  Caroline  be  present. 
Caroline  little  knew  the  very  slight  foundation  Annie  had  for 
this  assertion.  Lady  Helen  had  merely  said,  perhaps  she 
would  ask ;  and  this  was  only  said,  because  she  was  too  indo- 
lent and  weak  to  say  "  No  "  at  once.  Not  that  she  had  any 
unkind  feeling  toward  Caroline,  but  simply  because  she  wa.^ 
perfectly  certain  Mrs.  Hamilton  would  not  consent,  and  to 
persuade  as  earnestly  as  Annie  wished  was  really  too  mud' 
trouble. 

( -aroline's  wishes  in  this  instance   triumphed  over  her  K-tln 


HOME    INFLUENCE.  1  80 

judgment,  for  had  she  allowed  herself  to  think  sooerly,  she 
ought  to  have  known  her  mother's  principles  of  action  suffi- 
ciently, not  to  3ntertain  the  slightest  hope  of  going. 

The  invitations  (three  weeks'  notice)  for  her  parents  and 
brothers  came.  In  them  she  did  not  expect  to  be  included,  but 
when  above  a  week  passed,  and  still  not  a  word  was  said,  dis- 
appointment took  the  place  of  hope,  and  it  was  only  the  still 
lingering  belief  that  she  might  go,  even  at  the  last  moment,  that 
prevented  the  return  of  ill-temper. 

Now  Lady  Helen  really  had  asked,  though  she  did  not  per- 
suade ;  and  Mrs.  Hamilton  thanked  her,  but,  as  she  expected, 
decidedly  refused.  "  Caroline  was  much  too  young,"  she 
said,  "  for  such  a  party.  Did  she  know  any  thing  about  being 
asked  ?  "  Lady  Helen  said,  with  truth,  that  she  had  not  men- 
tioned the  subject  to  her,  and  had  desired  Annie  to  be  equally 
silent. 

Mrs.  Hamilton  quite  forgot  that  Miss  Grahame  was  not 
famous  for  obedience,  and,  relying  on  her  friend's  assurance, 
determined  on  not  saying  any  thing  to  Caroline  about  it ;  wishing 
to  spare  her  the  pain  which  she  knew  her  refusal  would  inflict. 
As  it  happened,  it  would  have  been  better  if  she  had  spoken. 
The  weather  had  prevented  Caroline  from  seeing  Annie,  but 
she  was  quite  sure  she  would  not  deceive  her ;  and  her  proud 
heart  rebelled  against  her  mother,  not  only  for  refusing  Lady 
Helen's  request,  but  for  treating  her  so  much  like  a  child,  as  to 
hide  that  refusal  from  her.  Under  the  influence  of  such 
thoughts,  of  course,  her  temper  became  more  and  more  difficult 
to  control  and  as  a  natural  consequence,  anger  and  irritation 
against  her  mother,  and  self-reproach  for  the  indulgence  of  such 
feelings  increased,  till  she  became  actually  miserable. 

It  happened  that  about  this  time  Miss  Harcourt  left  Oakwood 
for  a  week,  on  a  visit  to  an  invalid  friend  at  Dartmouth.  Mrs. 
Hamilton  had  given  her  full  liberty,  promising  that  her  pupils 
should  lose  nothing  by  her  absence.  She  left  on  the  Saturday, 
and  the  Thursday  was  Lady  Helen's  ball.  On  the  Monday, 
Mr.  Hamilton  detained  Edward,  as  he  was  leaving  the  library, 
after  morning  prayers,  and  told  him  that  he  had  received  a  let- 
ter, which  he  thought  might  chance  to  interest  him.  Ten  mi- 
nutes afterward,  Edward  rushed  into  the  breakfast-room,  in  a 
state  of  such  joyoas  excitement  that  he  could  scarcely  speak. 

"  Wish  me  five,  ten,  twenty  thousand  joys  !  "  he  exclaimed, 
springing  from  chair  to  chair,  as  if  velocity  of  movement  should 
bring  back  speech.  "  In  one  month  the  Prince  William  sails, 
\nd  }  am  to  meet  her  at  Portsmouth,  and  be  a  sailor,  a  real 


lot  BOME   INFLUENCE. 

sailor  ;  and  to-morrow  fortnight  uncle  says  we  are  to  start  fur 
London,  und  have  ten  days  there  to  see  all  the  fine  sights,  and 
then  go  to  Portsmouth,  and  see  all  that  is  to  be  seen  there,  and 
then  —  and  then  —  " 

"  Take  care  you  do  not  lose  your  wits  before  you  leave  Oak- 
wood,"  interposed  Percy,  laughing  heartily.  "  I  should  not  a* 
all  wonder,  before  you  go,  that  you  will  be  fancying  the  rivei 
Dart  the  Atlantic,  and  set  sail  in  a  basket,  touch  at  all  the  islet* 
you  may  pass,  imagining  them  various  cities,  and  finally  land  ai 
Dartmouth,  believing  it  Halifax,  your  destined  port  —  that  will 
be  the  end  of  your  sailorship,  Edward,  depend  upon  it." 

"  I  rather  think  I  should  stand  a  chance  of  being  ducked  into 
my  sober  senses  again,  Percy,  unless  wicker  be  waterproof, 
which  I  never  heard  it  was." 

"  But  I  have,  though,"  eagerly  interrupted  Ernmeline  ;  "  the 
Scots  and  Picts  invaded  England  in  wicker  boats,  and  to  have 
held  so  many  men,  they  must  have  been  strong  and  waterproof 
too.  So  you  see,  Percy's  basket  is  only  an  ancient  boat,  Ed- 
ward. You  are  much  better  off  than  you  thought  you  were." 

"  Give  me  Alfred's  wooden  walls  instead,  Emmy  ;  your  Picts 
and  Scots  were  very  little  better  than  savages  —  Alfred  is  my 
man  ;  he  deserves  to  be  called  great,  if  it  were  only  for  form- 
ing the  first  English  navy.  But  neither  my  aunt  nor  Ellen 
have  wished  me  joy.  I  think  I  shall  be  offended." 

Mrs.  Hamilton  could  not  speak  at  the  first  moment,  for  the 
joy,  the  animation  of  her  nephew  so  recalled  the  day  when  her 
own  much-loved  brother,  her  darling  Charles,  had  rushed  into 
her  room,  to  tell  her  all  his  glee,  for  no  one  ever  listened  to  and 
shared  in  his  joys  and  troubles  as  she  did.  He  was  then 
scarcely  older  than  Edward,  as  full  of  hope  and  joy  and  buoy- 
ancy-—where  was  he?  Would  his  fate  be  that  of  the  bright, 
beautiful  boy  before  her  ?  And  as  Edward  threw  his  arms 
round  her  neck,  and  kissed  her  again  and  again,  telling  her  he 
could  not  be  quite  sure  it  was  not  all  a  dream,  unless  she  wished 
him  joy  too,  it  was  the  utmost  effort  to  prevent  the  fast  gather- 
ng  tears,  and  so  command  her  voice,  that  he  should  not  hear 
her  tremble.  Poor  Ellen  looked  and  felt  bewildered.  She  had 
ilways  tried  to  realize  that  Edward,  to  be  a  sailor,  must  leave 
her;  and  in  fact  aware  that  his  summons  would  soon  come,  hei 
aunt  and  uncle  had  often  alluded  to  his  departure  before  her, 
but  still  she  had  never  thought  it  near ;  and  now  the  news  was 
rx)  sudden,  and  Edward  was  so  wild  with  joy,  she  fancied  she 
ought  to  rejoice  too,  but  she  could  not ;  and  Percy  was  obliged 
to  ask  her  merrily,  what  ailed  her,  and  if  she  could  not  trust  to 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  183 

bis  being  a  much  more  worthy  brother  than  such  a  water-rut 
who  had  no  business  whatever  on  land,  before  she  could  take 
her  place  at  the  breakfast  table  and  try  to  smile.  But  her  eyes 
would  rest  on  Edward  even  then,  and  she  felt  as  if  there  were 
something  across  her  throat  and  she  could  not  swallow  the  nice 
roll  which  Herbert  had  so  kindly  buttered  and  cut,  and  so 
quietly  placed  in  her  plate  ;  and  when  Edward  said  something 
very  funny,  as  he  was  in  the  habit  of  doing,  and  made  them  all 
laugh,  she  tried  to  laugh  too,  but  instead  of  a  laugh  it  was  a 
sob  that  startled  herself,  for  she  was  quite  sure  she  did  not 
mean  to  be  so  foolish ;  but  instead  of  being  reproved,  as  she 
was  afraid  she  should  be,  she  felt  her  aunt's  arm  thrown  gently 
round  her,  till  she  could  hide  her  face  on  her  shoulder,  and  cry 
quite  quietly  for  a  few  minutes,  for  they  went  on  talking  and 
laughing  round  the  breakfast-table,  and  nobody  took  any  notice 
of  her,  which  she  was  quite  glad  of,  for  she  could  not  bear  Ed- 
ward to  think  she  was  unhappy  when  he  was  so  pleased.  And 
after  breakfast,  though  he  was  in  such  a  desperate  hurry  to  telj 
Mr.  Howard  the  good  news,  that  when  he  did  set  off  he  left 
even  Percy  far  behind  him,  he  found  time  to  give  her  a  hearty 
kiss,  and  to  tell  her  that  he  loved  her  very  much,  though  he 
could  not  help  being  so  glad  he  was  going  to  sea ;  and  that  he 
was  quite  proud  of  her,  because  though  he  knew  she  was  very 
sorry  he  was  going,  she  did  not  cry  and  make  a  fuss  as  some 
selfish  people  would  ;  and  then  she  really  did  smile. 

"  It  is  Monday  morning,  my  dears,  and  I  find  Ellis  and  Mor- 
ris require  my  attention  for  a  longer  time  than  I  expected," 
Mrs.  Hamilton  said,  as  she  entered  the  school-room,  and  found 
the  three  girls  preparing  their  books,  "  so  I  must  set  you  all  to 
work,  and  see  how  well  you  can  get  on  without  me  till  eleven, 
when  I  will  rejoin  you.  I  shall  order  the  carriage  at  half-past 
twelve,  and  if  all  I  require  is  completed,  we  will  pay  your 
favorite  old  ruin  a  visit,  Emmy  ;  the  morning  is  so  lovely,  that 
I  think  we  may  venture  to  take  our  sketch-books,  and  see  what 
other  part  of  Berry  Pomeroy  we  can  take  pencil  possession  of." 

Such  an  anticipation  was  quite  enough  for  Emmeline.  Her 
dance  about  the  room  was  only  checked  by  the  idea  that  her 
lessons  would  never  be  ready,  nor  her  exercises  and  sums  done, 
unless  she  sat  quietly  down  ;  and  so,  with  a  great  effort,  she  gave 
all  her  attention  to  her  various  tasks,  and  mastered  them  even 
before  her  mother  returned.  Ellen,  though  she  tried  quito  fcs 
much,  was  not  so  successful.  The  Prince  "William  would  saiJ 
m  miniature  .on  her  slate,  over  all  her  figures.  The  recollecticn 
m  the  awful  storm  they  had  encourtered  or  their  voyage  tc 


1 86  HOME    INFLUKNCK. 

England  would  return  so  vividly,  that  the  very  room  seemed  to 
heave.  And  then  —  but  she  could  not  make  out  why  she 
should  thinV  about  that  then  —  her  mother's  death-bed  came 
before  her  and  her  promise,  and  it  seemed  harder  still  to  part 
with  Edward,  from  a  vague  dread  that  came  over  her,  but  still 
she  tried  to  attend  to  what  she  had  to  do,  and  congratulated 
herself  on  its  completion  before  her  aunt  appeared. 

Caroline,  alone,  was  determined  not  to  work.  Because  she 
had  not  made  herself  miserable  enough  already,  the  most  un- 
founded jealousy  entered  her  head  from  seeing  her  mother's 
caressing  kindness  toward  Ellen  at  breakfast ;  why  was  not  her 
manner  as  kind  to  her !  She  was  quite  as  unhappy,  and  her 
mother  must  see  it,  but  she  took  no  notice  of  her  —  only  of 
Ellen.  She  might  be  cross  sometimes,  but  she  never  told 
stories  or  tried  to  hide  her  faults,  and  it  was  very  hard  and  un- 
just that  she  should  be  treated  so  like  a  child,  and  Ellen  made 
so  much  of;  and  so  she  thought  and  thought,  not  attempting  to 
do  a  single  thing  till  she  actually  made  herself  believe,  for  the 
time,  that  her  kind,  indulgent  mother  had  no  love  for  her  ;  and 
every  tlu'ng  looked  blacker  than  before. 

She  made  no  effort  to  rouse  herself  even  in  Mrs.  Hamilton's 
presence,  but  listened  to  her  remonstrances  with  such  extreme 
carelessness,  almost  insolence,  that  her  mother  felt  her  patience 
failing.  The  self-control,  however,  for  which  she  had  success- 
fully striven,  enabled  her  so  to  overcome  the  irritation,  as  to  re- 
tain her  own  quiet  dignity,  and  simply  to  desire  Caroline  to 
give  her  attention  at  once  to  her  studies,  and  conquer  her  ill- 
temper,  or  not  to  think  of  accompanying  them  on  their  excur- 
sion, as  idleness  and  peevishness  were  better  left  to  themselves. 
An  insolent  and  haughty  reply  rose  to  Caroline's  lips ;  but  with 
an  effort  she  remained  silent,  her  flushed  forehead  alone  denot- 
ing the  internal  agitation.  Emmeline's  diligence  and  the  ap- 
probation she  received  irritated  her  still  more  ;  but  she  rejoiced 
when  she  heard  her  mother  tell  Ellen  there  was  not  a  correct 
line  in  her  French  exercise,  and  her  sum,  a  compound  long  di- 
vision, wrong  from  the  very  first  figure.  But  the  pleasure  soon 
gave  place  to  indignant  anger,  when,  instead  of  the  reproof 
which  she  believed  would  follow,  Mrs.  Hamilton  said  very 
kindly  — 

"I  should  very  much  like  these  done  correctly,  Ellen,  lie- 
fore  we  go  out ;  suppose  you  ensconce  yourself  in  that  bey- 
window,  there  are  a  table  and  chair  all  ready  for  you,  and  vi- 
shall  not  interrupt  you  as  we  should  if  you  remain  at  this  tab'e. 
I  know  they  are  both  rery  difficult,  to-day  especially,  but  th  • 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  187 

more  merit  in  their  accomplishment,  you  know  the  more  pleased 
I  shall  b3. 

Ellen  obeyed  directly  ;  a  little  care,  and  with  the  assistance 
of  her  grammar,  which  her  aunt  permitted  her  to  refer  to,  in- 
stead of  depending  entirely  on  her  memory  that  morning,  ena- 
bled her  to  succeed  with  her  French ;  but  four  times  was  that 
tormenting  sum  returned  to,  till  at  last  her  tears  effaced  the 
figures  as  fast  as  they  were  written.  Still,  patience  and  resolu- 
tion in  both  teacher  and  pupil  conquered,  and  the  fifth  time 
there  was  not  a  figure  wrong ;  and  Mrs.  Hamilton,  fondly  put- 
ting back  the  heavy  ringlets  which  in  Ellen's  absorbed  attention 
had  fallen  over  her  tearful  cheeks,  said,  playfully  — 

"  Shall  I  tell  you  a  secret,  my  little  Ellen  ?  I  was  quite  as 
disinclined  to  be  firm  this  morning  as  you  were  to  be  patient ; 
so  you  see  we  have  both  gained  a  great  victory.  My  conjuring 
propensities,  as  Emmy  thinks  them,  told  me  that  you  had  real 
cause  for  some  little  inattention,  and,  therefore  that  it  was  very 
cruel  in  me  to  be  so  determined;  but  my  judgment  would  tell 
me  that  my  feeling  was  wrong,  and  that  to  conquer  disinclina- 
tion and  overcome  a  difficulty,  was  a  much  better  way  of  les- 
sening even  natural  sorrow  than  to  give  up.  I  do  not  expect 
you  to  think  so  just  now,  but  I  fancy  you  are  not  very  sorry 
this  disagreeable,  terrible  tiresome  sum  has  not  to  be  done  to- 
morrow, which  it  must  have  been,  had  you  left  it  to-day." 

Ellen  was  so  glad,  that  she  felt  almost  happy,  and  her  few 
other  duties  were  done  quite  briskly,  for  Mrs.  Hamilton  had 
been  so  kind  as  to  countermand  the  carriage  till  one,  that  she 
and  Caroline  might  have  time  to  finish.  But  Caroline,  if  she 
had  not  tried  before,  was  now  still  less  capable  of  doing  so. 
Every  word  of  kindness  addressed  to  Ellen  increased  the  storm 
raging  within,  and  the  difficulty  of  restraining  it  in  Mrs.  Hamil- 
ton's presence  caused  it  to  burst  forth  with  unmitigated  violence 
the  moment  she  quitted  the  apartment,  desiring  Ernmeline  and 
Ellen  to  make  haste,  and  put  away  their  books,  but  still  with- 
out taking  the  least  notice  of  her.  Invective,  reproach,  almost 
abuse,  were  poured  against  Ellen,  who  stood  actually  frightened 
at  the  violence  she  had  so  very  innocently  excited,  and  at  the 
fearful  and  deforming  passion  which  inflamed  her  cousin's  every 
feature.  Caroline's  anger  had  miscounted  time,  or  she  must 
have  known  that  her  mother  could  not  have  gone  fa"  enough, 
for  such  unusual  tones  of  excitement  to  escape  her  quick  hoar- 
ing.  Mrs.  Hamilton,  startled  and  alarmed,  returned  directly, 
jnd  so  vividly  did  her  child's  appearance  and  words  recall  hei 
o'vn  misguided  sister  in  those  uncontrolled  fits  of  fury,  ui  do. 


188  HOME    INFLUENCE. 

which  shfj  had  so  often  trembled,  that  present  disappoint  merit 
and  dread  for  the  future,  took  possession  of  her,  and  for  the 
moment  rendered  her  powerless.  Caroline  was  too  much  en- 
grossed to  perceive  her  at  first,  and  she  had,  therefore,  time  tc 
rally  from  the  momentary  weakness. 

"  What  does  this  mean  ?  "  she  exclaimed,  fixing  her  eyes  0:1 
Caroline,  with  that  expression  of  quiet  but  stern  reproof,  which 
when  she  did  use  it  —  and  it  was  very  seldom  —  had  the  power 
of  subduing  even  the  wildest  excitement.  "What  has  Ellen 
done,  that  you  should  abuse  her  with  this  unjust  and  cruel  and 
most  unfeminine  violence  ?  You  have  indulge'd  your  ill-temper 
till  you  do  not  know  what  you  say  or  do,  and  you  are  venting 
on  another  the  anger  which  my  displeasure  has  caused  you  to 
feel  toward  me  and  toward  yourself.  I  desire  that  you  will 
control  it  directly,  or  retire  to  your  own  room,  till  you  can  be- 
have with  some  degree  of  propriety,  and  not  disturb  the  com- 
fort and  happiness  of  others  in  this  most  uncalled-for  manner." 

"I  will  not  go,"  answered  Caroline,  bursting  into  violent 
tears,  and  scarcely  aware  of  what  she  was  saying,  "I  know  I 
dislike  Ellen,  and  I  have  reason  to  dislike  her,  for  before  she 
came,  you  were  never  so  often  displeased  with  me ;  you  are 
always  kind  and  indulgent  to  her,  always  treat  her  as  a  rea- 
sonable being,  not  as  the  child,  the  infant  you  think  me.  I  know 
you  have  lost  all  love  for  me,  or  you  must  have  seen  I  was  un- 
happy, and  spoken  kindly  to  me,  as  you  did  to  Ellen ;  I  have 
every  reason  to  dislike  her,  stealing  your  affection  from  me  as 
she  has,  and  I  do  with  all  my  heart ! " 

"  Go,  and  prepare  for  our  drive,  my  dear  children,"  Mrs. 
Hamilton  said,  as  she  calmly  turned  for  a  moment  to  Emmeline 
and  Ellen,  who  both  stood  bewildered,  the  former  from  actual 
terror  that  her  sister  should  dare  so  to  address  her  mother,  and 
the  latter  from  pain  at  the  violent  avowal  of  a  dislike  which 
she  had  intuitively  felt,  but  had  always  tried  to  disbelieve. 
"The  beauty  of  the  day  will  be  gone  if  we  linger  much  longer, 
and  I  do  not  intend  to  be  disappointed  of  our  promised  ramble. 
Do  not  think  any  thing  of  what  this  unhappy  girl  is  saying;  at 
present  she  scarcely  knows  herself,  and  will  by  and  by  wish  it 
recalled,  far  more  intensely  than  ever  we  can." 

Emmeline  longed  to  throw  her  arms  round  her  mother,  and 
ivith  tears  beseech  her  to  forget  what  Caroline  had  said ;  but, 
though  Mrs.  Hamilton  had  spoken  cheerfully,  and  in  quite  her 
usual  tone  of  voice  to  them,  there  was  something  in  her  counte- 
nance, that  checked  any  display  of  softness  even  in  her  aiFec- 
donate  child;  something  that  almost  awed  her,  and  she  lift  the 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  189 

loom  with  Ellen  to  prepare  for  the  promised  excursion,  which 
Lad,  however,  lost  all  its  anticipated  enjoyment  from  the  uncon- 
trolled temper  of  another. 

"  Now,  Caroline,  I  will  answer  you,"  said  Mrs.  Hamilton,  as 
soon  as  they  were  alone,  and  again  regarding  Caroline,  who 
was  sobbing  violently,  with  that  same  searching  look.  "  Your 
charges  are  such  very  heavy  ones,  that  I  really  must  request 
you  during  my  absence  to  arrange  and  define  them  in  some 
order.  I  am  so  perfectly  ignorant  of  having  given  you  any 
foundation  for  them,  that,  before  I  can  attempt  defence,  you 
must  inform  me  exactly  and  definitely  of  what  you  complain. 
That  this  morning  my  manner  was  kinder  to  Ellen  than  to  VOH 
I  quite  acknowledge.  Her  inattention  and  depression  had  a 
cause,  yours  had  none ;  for  if  you  were  unhappy,  it  was  from 
your  own  fearful  temper,  which,  by  encouragement,  has  black- 
ened every  thing  around  you.  You  may  employ  your  time  till 
dinner  as  you  choose  ;  but  at  five  o'clock  come  to  me  in  my 
dressing-room,  prepared  to  define  and  inform  me  of  every 
charge  you  can  bring  against  me.  You  will  consider  this  a 
command,  Caroline,  disregard  or  evasion  of  which  will  be  dis- 
obedience." 

She  left  the  room,  and  in  a  very  short  time  afterward  Caro- 
line heard  the  carriage  drive  off;  but  for  nearly  three  long 
hours  she  never  moved  from  her  seat,  so  utterly  miserable,  as 
scarcely  even  to  change  her  position.  Never  in  her  life  before, 
not  in  her  most  angry  moments,  had  she  so  spoken  to  her  mo- 
ther, and  her  remorse  was  almost  intolerable.  Again  and 
again  she  remembered  what  Mrs.  Hamilton  had  told  her  so 
often,  that,  if  she  did  not  strive  and  pray  against  the  dominion 
of  ill-temper  while  young,  it  would  become  more  and  more  un- 
controllable, and  the  older  she  became,  the  more  difficult  to 
subdue,  even  in  a  moderate  degree  ;  and  her  words  were  indeed 
true.  It  had  been  many  months  since  temper  had  gained  such 
an  ascendency,  and  its  effects  were  far,  far  more  violent,  and 
its  power  over  her  more  determined,  and  if,  as  she  grew  older, 
it  should  be  still  worse,  what  would  become  of  her  ?  how  in- 
sufferably wretched !  what  would  she  not  have  given  to  have 
recalled  her  words  ?  The  jealousy  which  had  arisen,  now  she 
knew  not  how,  had  sunk  into  air  before  those  few  calm  inquir- 
ing sentences  from  her  mother,  and  in  her  excessive  misery 
every  kind  deed  and  word  and  look,  every  fond  indulgence  and 
forbearance,  in  fact,  all  the  love  her  mother  had  so  lavished  on 
her  from  her  infancy,  rushed  back  upon  her,  till  she  actually 
bated  herself,  and  longed  the  more  intensely  for  the  ccmfort  of 


190  HOME   INFLUENCE. 

Lhat  soothing  affection,  which,  in  real  pain  or  childish  sorrow, 
had  never  been  refused  her. 

"  Why,  why  did  Annie  tell  me  any  thing  about  that  hatefu 
ball  ?  "  she  exclaimed,  at  length,  as  the  sound  of  many  joyoug 
voices  and  the  dressing-bell  proclaimed  the  return  of  the  vari- 
ous membei'S  of  her  family  only  in  time  to  prepare  for  dinner. 
"  It  was  all,  all  from  that ;  I  know  now,  only  from  that  one 
thought  —  one  wish.  Why  was  I  such  a  fool,  as  not  to  tell 
mamma  at  once  that  I  knew  I  was  to  be  asked,  and  wished  so 
much  to  go  ?  —  if  she  had  refused  me,  it  would  not  have  been 
half  the  pain  I  have  made  for  myself.  And  how  can  I  meet 
papa's  eye  and  Percy's  unkind  jokes  with  eyes  like  these  ?  " 
she  added,  as  on  rising  to  go  to  her  own  room,  she  caught  sight 
of  her  own  face  in  a  mirror,  and  actually  started  at  the  dis- 
figurement which  the  violence  of  her  emotion  had  wrought. 
"  Oh,  how  I  wish  mamma  had  not  desired  me  to  go  to  her ; 
that  I  could  but  hide  myself  from  everybody — or  get  rid  of 
this  horrible  black  cloud." 

From  every  eye  but  her  mother's  she  could  and  did  hide 
herself;  for  saying  that  her  head  ached,  which  was  the  truth, 
and  she  did  not  wish  any  thing  to  take,  she  refused  to  go  down 
to  dinner.  Mrs.  Hamilton  had  successfully  exerted  herself 
during  their  excursion,  and  Emmeline  and  Ellen  enjoyed  them- 
selves so  thoroughly  as  almost  to  forget  the  alloy  of  the  morn- 
ing ;  and  even  when  Caroline's  message  recalled  it,  the  boys 
were  all  so  merry,  that  it  did  not  disturb  them.  Percy  always 
declared  that  Caroline's  headache  was  only  another  term  for 
temper-ache,  and  he  would  certainly  have  sent  her  some  mes- 
sage of  mock  pity,  if  his  quick  eye  had  not  discovered  or 
fancied  that  his  mother  did  not  look  quite  as  well  as  usual,  and 
so  he  contented  himself  by  trying  still  more  to  be  the  life  of  the 
dinner-table.  Mr.  Hamilton  had  seen  at  a  single  glance  that 
all  was  not  quite  right,  and  Caroline's  non-appearance  and 
message  explained  it,  to  his  extreme  regret,  for  he  had  begun 
to  hope  and  believe  that  his  wife's  extreme  solicitude,  on  her 
account,  was  beginning  to  decrease. 

Mrs.  Hamilton  had  not  much  doubt  that  silence  and  solitude 
had  so  far  had  effect  on  Caroline  as  to  subdue  passion,  and 
bring  her  to  a  sense  of  her  misconduct ;  but  that  had  scarcely 
power  to  lessen  the  anxiety  and  the  pain  which  Caroline's 
words  had  so  wantonly  inflicted.  Had  she  indeed  evinced  any 
thing  like  undue  partiality  ?  the  idea  alone  almost  brought  a 
smile  ;  fondly,  and  almost  as  her  own  child,  as  she  loved  her 
little  niece.  The  very  anxiety  Caroline  occasioned  her,  deep 


HOME    INFLUENCE.  191 

cnod  her  affectici. ;  the  very  control  she  was  obliged  to  exercise 
in  her  mode  of  guiding  her,  strengthened  every  feeling  toward 
her.  She  was  so  enwrapped  in  these  painfully  engrossing 
thoughts,  in  the  strict  examination  of  her  own  heart,  that  she 
was  not  aware  the  time  she  had  appointed  had  passed  by 
full  ten  minutes,  till  she  was  roused  by  the  handle  of  her  door 
being  softly  turned,  and  left  again,  as  if  some  one  had  wished 
to  enter,  but  hesitated.  The  very  hesitation  gave  her  hope, 
for  she  really  did  not  know  that  the  utmost  penalty  she  could 
have  inflicted  on  Caroline,  in  the  moment  of  natural  indigna- 
tion, would  have  failed  in  producing  such  an  effect  as  the  simple 
command  to  seek  her,  and  define  her  charges  against  her,  when 
that  angry  excitement  had  so  calmed,  that  Caroline  would  have 
given  worlds,  if  she  might  but  have  not  referred  to  it  again. 
She  knew  she  dared  not  disobey,  but  her  daring  had  left  her 
so  powerless  that  she  had  stood  at  her  mother's  door  full  ten 
minutes  before  she  could  command  courage  sufficient  to  open 
it  and  enter. 

Mrs.  Hamilton  looked  at  her  changed  aspect,  the  bitter 
humiliation  expressed  in  every  feature,  with  such  pity,  that  it 
required  even  more  than  her  usual  exercise  of  control,  to  retain 
the  grave,  and  apparently  unmoved  tone  with  which  she  said  — 

"  You  have  had  a  long  time  in  which  to  reflect  on  your 
charges  against  me,  Caroline.  I  hope  they  are  now  sufficiently 
defined  for  me  to  understand  and  answer  them.  You  may  sit 
down,  for  you  do  not  seem  very  capable  of  standing." 

Caroline  gladly  obeyed,  by  sitting  down  on  a  low  ottoman, 
some  little  distance  from  her  mother,  on  whose  neck  she  abso- 
lutely longed  to  throw  herself  and  beseech  forgiveness  ;  but 
Mrs.  Hamilton's  tone  was  not  such  as  to  give  her  courage  to  do 
so.  She  remained  silent,  burying  her  face  in  her  hands. 

"I  am  waiting  your  pleasure,  Caroline  ;  I  should  havt3  thought 
that  you  had  had  plenty  of  time  to  think  during  my  absence. 
Of  what  do  you  accuse  me  ?  " 

"  Oh,  nothing,  nothing !  mamma,  dear  mamma,  do  not  speak 
to  me  in  that  tone,  I  cannot  bear  it ;  indeed,  indeed,  I  am  mis- 
erable enough  already ;  condemn  rne  to  any  punishment,  the 
severest  you  can,  I  know  I  deserve  it  —  but  do  not,  do  not 
speak  so." 

"  No,  Caroline  ;  were  I  to  condemn  you  to  any  punishment, 
it  would  seem  more  like  vengeance  for  the  pain  you  have 
inflicted  on  me  by  your  accusation  of  partiality  and  injustice 
than  from  the  hope  of  producing  any  good  end.  You  are  no 
longer  a  child,  who  must  be  taught  the  line  of  duty  to  a  parent 


192  HOME  INFLUENCE 

You  know  it  now  as  well  as  I  can  teach  it,  and  if  you  fail, 
must  be  answerable  only  to  yourself.  I  cannot  help  you  any 
further,  than  by  requesting  you  to  explain  clearly  the  origin  of 
your  complaint  against  me.  Its  main  ground  of  offence  is,  I 
believe,  that  since  Ellen  has  become  an  inmate  of  my  family 
I  have  treated  you  with  more  harshness  and  unkindness  than 
I  ever  did  before.  Can  you  look  back  on  the  last  eighteen 
months  and  recall  one  instance  in  which  this  has  been  the  case  ? 
I  must  have  an  answer,  Caroline ;  you  may  now  think  explana- 
tion is  not  necessary,  and  that  you  meant  nothing  when  you 
spoke,  but  that  will  not  satisfy  me  nor  you,  when  ill-temper  re- 
gains ascendency.  You  need  not  refrain  from  answering  foi 
fear  of  wounding  me.  You  can  scarcely  do  that  more  than  you 
have  done  already." 

Caroline  tried  to  speak,  but  she  could  only  sob  forth,  that 
she  could  not  recall  one  instance,  in  which  her  mother  had  been 
more  displeased  with  her  than  her  conduct  merited.  Acknow- 
ledging, but  almost  inarticulately,  that  she  had  sometimes  fan- 
cied that  she  had  remained  longer  cold  with  her  than  with 
Ellen,  after  the  committal  of  a  fault  —  and  that —  (she  stop- 
ped.) 

"  Go  on,  Caroline." 

"  I  could  not  feel  my  faults  such  heavy  ones  as  Ellen's." 

"  They  are  of  equal  if  not  greater  weight  than  your  cousin's, 
Caroline.  You  have  been,  from  your  earliest  infancy,  the  ob- 
ject of  the  most  tender  and  devoted  care  to  your  father  and 
myself.  Miss  Harcourt  has  followed  out  our  plans  ;  you  have 
never  been  exposed  to  any  temptation,  not  even  that  of  casual 
bad  example.  Ellen,  till  she  became  mine,  encountered  neg- 
lect, harshness,  all  that  could  not  fail  in  such  a  character  to 
engender  the  faults  she  has.  You  cannot  compare  yourself 
with  her,  for,  had  you  been  situated  as  she  was,  I  fear  you 
would  have  had  still  heavier  failings." 

"  I  should  never  have  told  untruths,"  exclaimed  Caroline 
with  returning  temper. 

"  Perhaps  not,  for  some  persons  are  so  physically  constituted 
that  they  do  not  know  what  fear  is ;  and  harshness  would 
harden,  not  terrify  and  crush,  as  with  such  dispositions  as 
Ellen's.  But  Caroline,  when  temper  gains  dominion  over  you, 
as  it  has  done  to-day,  do  you  always  think  and  utter  nothing 
but  the  truth?" 

Caroline  turned  from  that  penetrating  look  and  burst  into 
fears.  Few  as  the  words  were,  they  seemed  to  flash  light  into 
the  very  inmost  recesses  of  her  heart,  and  lell  her  that  in  mo- 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  193 

ments  of  uncontrolled  temper,  in  her  brooding  fancies,  she 
eally  did  forfeit  the  truth,  on  adherence  to  which  she  so  prided 
nerself ;  and  that  there  was  no  excuse  for  her  in  the  idea  that 
she  did  not  know  what  she  said  or  did  —  for  why  had  religion 
and  reason  been  so  carefully  implanted  within  her,  but  to  enable 
her  to  subdue  the  evil  temper,  ere  it  acquired  such  fearful 
dominion. 

*•  Perhaps  you  have  never  thought  of  this  before,  Caroline," 
resumed  Mra.  Hamilton,  and  her  tone  was  not  quite  so  cold 
"  but  think  of  it  in  future,  and  it  may  help  you  to  conquer 
yourself.  Remember,  words  can  never  be  recalled,  and  that, 
though  you  may  have  lost  such  command  over  yourself,  as 
scarcely  to  know  the  exact  sense  of  what  you  say,  yet  those  to 
whom  they  are  addressed,  or  those  who  may  have  only  heard 
them,  must  believe,  and  so  receive,  and  perhaps  act  on  false 
impressions,  which  no  after  effort  will  remove.  Now  to  your 
next  charge,  that  I  treat  Ellen  as  a  reasonable  being,  and  you 
as  a  child  —  if  you  have  the  least  foundation  for  this  supposi- 
tion, speak  it  without  hesitation  —  whence  has  it  arisen  ?  " 

For  one  minute  Caroline  hesitated,  but  then  resolved  she 
would  atone  for  her  fault  at  least  by  a  full  confession.  She 
told  all  the  wishes,  the  hopes  Annie's  information  of  Lady 
Helen's  promise  had  imparted,  and  the  pain  it  was  to  feel  that 
her  mother  thought  her  such  a  child  as  not  to  speak  to  her  on 
the  subject. 

"And  if  you  did  think  so,  Caroline,  why  did  you  not,  from 
the  first  moment  that  Annie  told  you  of  it,  come  to  me,  and  tell 
me  how  very  much  you  wished  it  ?  I  could  not,  indeed,  have 
granted  your  wishes,  but  your  confidence  would  have  been 
met  with  such  indulgence  as  would  at  least  have  saved  you 
some  degree  of  pain.  Believing,  as  I  did,  and  as  Lady  Helen 
assured  me  I  might  with  safety,  that  you  knew  nothing  about 
it  —  would  you  have  thought  it  kind  or  judicious  in  me,  had  I 
said,  '  Lady  Helen  has  persuaded  me  to  take  you  to  her  ball, 
but  I  have  refused  her.'  I  was  silent  to  spare  you  pain,  as, 
had  you  permitted  yourself  calmly  to  think,  you  would  have 
believed.  However,  as  appearances  were,  I  grant  that  I  have 
not  treated  you,  in  this  instance,  with  the  consideration  that 
your  age  might  perhaps  have  demanded ;  and  from  Annie  not 
obeying  Lady  Helen's  desire,  that  she  should  not  mention  the 
subject  to  you,  have  failed  in  sparing  you  the  pain  of  disap- 
pointment, as  I  had  hoped.  But  another  time,  instead  of  brood- 
Ing  over  that  which  seems  want  of  consideration  on  my  part, 
come  to  me  at  once,  and  spare  yourself  and  me  the  pain  you 


'94  HOME   INFLUENCE 

have  caused  ine  to-day.  I  do  not  think  you  can  accuse  me  of 
ever  meeting  your  confidence  with  so  much  harshness  as  lo 
check  such  openness  on  your  part." 

Caroline  looked  hastily  up ;  her  mother's  tone  was  almost  u? 
fond  as  usual,  and,  unable  to  restrain  the  impulse  any  longer, 
she  started  from  her  low  seat,  and  kneeling  down  close  by  her, 
clung  round  her,  passionately  exclaiming  — 

"  Mamma !  mamma !  pray,  forgive  me ;  I  am  so  very  miser 
able  —  I  cannot  bear  myself — I  do  not  know  when  I  shall  be 
happy  again;  for  even  if  you  forgive  me,  I  know  —  I  know  — 
I  never  can  forgive  myself." 

"  I  do  not  wish  you  to  forgive  yourself  just  yet,  my  dear 
child,"  replied  her  mother,  not  refusing  the  kiss  Caroline's  eyes 
so  earnestly  besought.  "Your  fault  has  been  such  an  aggra- 
vated one,  that  I  fear  it  must  cause  you  many  days  of  remorse, 
the  most  painful  kind  of  suffering  which  error  can  bring ;  but 
do  not  try  to  shake  it  off;  I  would  rather  see  you  endure  it, 
and  not  expect  happiness  for  a  few  days.  You  know  where  to 
seek  the  only  source  which  can  bring  peace  and  comfort,  and 
you  must  endeavor,  by  earnest  prayer,  to  strengthen  yourself 
for  the  conflict  you  have  so  often  to  encounter.  You  have  a 
very  difficult  task,  my  poor  child,  that  I  know ;  and,  there- 
fore, do  I  so  try  to  provide  you  with  a  guard  and  help." 

"  If  I  could  but  conquer  it  at  first,"  answered  Caroline,  whose 
violent  excitement  had  given  way  to  tears  of  real  repentance  ; 
"  but  at  first  it  seems  almost  a  pleasure  to  me  to  be  cross  to 
everybody,  and  answer  pettishly,  and  as  if  it  were  pleasantei 
to  encourage  disagreeable  thoughts  than  to  read  or  do  any  thing 
that  would  remove  them.  And  then,  when  I  would  give  any 
thing  to  escape  from  them,  it  seems  everybody's  fault  but  my 
own,  and  I  cannot." 

"  If  you  accustomed  yourself  constantly  to  pray  against  this 
great  fault,  my  dear  child,  you  would  find,  that  its  very  first 
approach  would  so  startle  you,  that  you  would  use  every  energy 
to  subdue  it.  But  I  fear  it  is  only  when  temper  has  made  you 
miserable,  as  it  has  to-day,  that  you  are  quite  aware  of  its 
enormity.  You  dc  not  think  the  fault  great  enough  to  demand 
the  watchfulness  and  care  without  which  it  never  will  be  sub- 
dued." 

"•I  am  afraid  I  do  not,  indeed,  mamma.  I  know  I  do  not 
make  it  a  subject  of  prayer,  as  you  have  so  often  advised  me, 
except  when  every  thing  looks  so  black,  and  I  am  so  miserable  ; 
and  then,  I  fear,  I  ask  more  to  be  happy  again,  than  for  for- 
giveness of  my  sin,  and  for  grace  and  strength  to  overcome  it 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  195 

I  never  felt  this  to  be  the  case  so  strongly  as  to-day,  but  your 
coldness  seems  to  have  shown  me  my  whole  self,  and  I  never 
thought  I  was  so  wicked,  and  so  I  must  be  miserable." 

Mrs.  Hamilton  involuntarily  drew  her  child  more  closely  to 
her.  The  humility,  the  bitterness  of  self-reproach,  was  so  un- 
like Caroline's  usual  haughtiness  —  so  very  much  deeper  than 
they  had  ever  been  before,  that  she  hoped,  in  spite  of  her  anxi- 
ety, and  her  voice  audibly  trembled  as  she  answered  — 

"  If  you  really  feel  this,  my  Caroline,  you  will  not  hesitate  to 
follow  my  advice,  and  really  pray  and  watch  against  this  un- 
happy temper,  even  when  every  thing  is  so  smooth  and  happy, 
that  you  cannot  imagine  why  you  need.  Sin  always  gains 
ascendency  by  using  pleasure  as  his  covering.  Do  not  let  a 
single  cross  word,  or  momentary  unkind  thought,  pass  unnoticed ; 
never  cease  in  your  petition  for  grace  and  strength,  but  do  not 
be  content  with  only  prayer;  you  must  use  effort  as  well,  and 
if  your -thoughts  will  te  black,  and  you  feel  as  if  you  could  not 
conquer  them  by  yourself,  nor  banish  them  even  by  your  favorite 
employments,  come  to  me,  confess  them  without  fear  or  hesita- 
tion to  me,  and  let  us  try  if  we  cannot  conquer  them  together. 
Will  you  promise  me  to  try  this  plan,  Caroline  ?  " 

Caroline  could  not  reply,  for  every  kind  word  her  mother 
spoke,  seemed  to  heighten  self-reproach,  and  make  her  still 
more  wretched.  Mrs.  Hamilton  felt  that  there  was  no  refusal 
in  her  silence,  and  continued  talking  to  her  in  that  same  gentle 
strain  a  little  while  longer,  and  then  rose  to  leave  her  —  but 
Caroline  looked  so  sorrowful  that  she  hesitated. 

"No,  mamma,  I  do  not  deserve  that  you  should  stay  with 
me,  and  so  deprive  Emmeline  and  Ellen,  and  the  boys  of  their 
favorite  hour,"  she  said,  though  the  tears  started  again  to  her 
eyes,  for  she  felt  as  if  it  would  be  an  indescribable  comfort  still 
to  be  alone  with  her  mother.  "I  am  too  unhappy  and  too 
ashamed  to  join  them,  if  I  may  remain  away  ?  "  Mrs.  Hamilton 
answered  in  the  affirmative.  "I  have  not  a  thing  prepared  for 
to-morrow,  and  —  and  I  do  not  —  indeed,  I  do  not  mean  to 
give  you  any  more  trouble  with  my  studies.  I  hate  myself  for 
that  too." 

"  Do  not  attempt  to  study  to-night,  my  dear  Caroline ;  get  up 
a  little  earlier  to-morrow,  to  be  ready  for  me,  if  you  like;  but 
though  it  will  be  much  more  painful  to  you  to  remain  idle  the 
remainder  of  this  evening  than  to  employ  yourself,  even  with 
the  most  disagreeable  task,  I  would  much  rather  you  should  do 
so.  Once  let  temper  be  quite  subdued,  and  your  heart  receive 
i;s  necessary  government,  and  I  have  no  fear  but  that  you  will 


19C  HOME   INFLUENCE. 

v*.ry  quickly  make  up  for  lost  time ;  and  even  if  you  did  not, 
believe  me,  my  dear  child,  the  graces  of  the  mind,  predoas  a^ 
in  generally  they  are  considered,  and  as  they  are,  still  are  to  ma 
actually  nothing  worth,  if  unaccompanied  by  a  gentle  temper 
and  womanly  heart.  Do  not  shrink  from  the  suffering  which  it 
will  be  to  sit  alone  and  think  on  all  that  has  passed  to-day ;  but 
let  your  remorse  be  accompanied  by  a  resolution  (which  you 
are  quite  capable  of  not  only  forming,  but  of  keeping)  not  to 
rest  till  by  prayer  and  effort  you  have  sought  God's  blessing  on 
your  difficult  task,  and  so  feel  strengthened  for  its  fulfilment ; 
and  also  for  persevering  hi  it,  for  you  must  not  hope  to  succeed 
in  subduing  yourself  all  at  once.  Do  this,  and  I  shall  be  better 
pleased  than  if  to-morrow  morning  you  brought  me  a  treble 
quantity  of  mental  work." 

She  embraced  and  left  her  —  to  meditations,  from  whose  bit- 
ter, though  salutary  pain,  Caroline  made  no  attempt  to  escape ; 
though,  had  it  not  been  for  her  mother's  advice,  she  would 
gladly  have  flown  to  her  studies,  and  worked  with  double  assi 
duity,  believing  that  she  was,  by  doing  so,  atoning  for  her  fault, 
instead  of  merely  shrinking  from  its  remembrance.  It  was  a 
trial  to  join  her  family  even  for  prayers ;  for  she  felt  so  self- 
convicted,  so  humbled,  that  she  fancied  every  one  must  despise 
her ;  and  when,  after  the  service,  Percy  approached,  and,  with 
mock  sympathy,  inquired  how  her  headache  was,  and  if  she  had 
recovered  her  appetite,  and  begged  her  not  to  be  ill  at  such  a 
critical  time,  as  he  most  particularly  wished  to  go  to  Lady 
Helen's  ball,  and  he  could  not  be  so  cruel,  if  she  were  not  well, 
her  spirit  was  so  broken  that  the  large  tears  rolled  down  her 
cheeks,  and  she  turned  away  without  uttering  a  single  word. 

"  If  you  had  taken  the  trouble  to  look  in  your  sister's  face, 
Percy,  you  would  not  have  spoken  so  unkindly,"  said  Mrs. 
Hamilton,  more  hastily  than  she  was  in  the  habit  of  interfering ; 
and  as  Caroline  came  to  her,  she  whispered  some  few  fond 
words,  that  enabled  her  to  wish  her  father  good-night  and  leave 
the  room,  without  any  farther  display  of  emotion. 

"Do  you  wish  your  sister  to  dislike  you,  Percy  ?  "  she  said, 
gently  detaining  him,  as  he  was  following  Caroline. 

"  Dislike  me,  mother  ?     No  !  how  can  you  think  so  ?  " 

"  Because  you  act  as  if  you  wished  it ;  you  never  see  her 
uncomfortable,  without  trying  to  make  her  more  so,  and  is  that 
kind  ?  How  can  she  ever  look  up  to  and  love  you,  while  such 
is  the  case  ?  " 

"I  only  mean  it  for  fun,  mother.  It  is  such  glorious  enjoy- 
ment to  me  to  torment,  when  I  s>*c  people  cross  and  miserable 
tor  nothing." 


HOME   INFLUENCE  197 

"And  in  the  enjoyment  of  your  fun,  my  dear  boy,  y  m  forget 
oilier  people's  feelings.  I  must  beg  you,  as  an  especial  favor 
to  myself,  that  you  will  do  all  you  can  to  soothe  rather  than 
irritate  Caroline,  in  the  short  time  that  intervenes  before  you 
go  to  London.  She  will  have  a  hard  struggle  with  herself,  so 
do  not  you  make  her  trial  more  difficult." 

"  Do  you  wish  it,  mother,  dear  ?  you  know  I  would  refrain 
from  teasing  even  for  a  whole  year,  if  it  would  please  you,  and 
give  me  the  privilege  of  a  kiss  whenever  I  like,"  he  laughingly 
answered,  looking  up  in  her  face  so  archly  and  yet  so  fondly 
that  his  mother  could  not  help  smiling ;  promising  she  would 
not  sentence  him  to  any  thing  so  terrible  as  not  to  tease  for  a 
whole  year,  as  she  was  quite  sure  he  would  fall  into  his  old 
propensities  before  a  quarter  of  the  time  had  expired. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

SUSPICION.  —  A    PARTING,    A    DOUBLE    GRIEF. INNOCENCE 

PROVED. WRONG    DONE    AND    EYIL    CONFIRMED 

BY    DOUBT. 

LADY  HELEN'S  ball  took  place ;  and  Caroline  had  so  con- 
quered herself,  that  she  could  listen  to  Percy's  flowing  account 
of  its  delights  with  actual  cheerfulness.  It  was  so  associated 
with  self-reproach,  that  she  could  scarcely  think  of  it  without 
pain ;  but  she  was  so  convinced  of  her  folly  in  permitting  such 
a  very  little  thing  so  to  affect  her  temper  as  to  cause  all  the 
misery  she  had  endured,  that  she  had  resolved  to  punish  hei'- 
self,  not  only  by  listening  to  Percy,  b:it  by  herself  inquiring 
the  details.  She  was  a  girl  of  really  a  strong  mind,  and  once 
convinced  of  error,  once  released  from  the  fell  dominion  of 
temper,  she  did  not  care  what  pain  she  endured,  or  what  diffi- 
culty she  encountered,  so  that  she  could  but  convince  her 
mother  how  truly  she  regretted,  and  tried  to  atone  for  past  mis- 
conduct. It  was  very  easy,  as  Mrs.  Hamilton  had  told  her,  to 
regain  lost  time  in  her  studies,  but  not  quite  so  easy  to  check 
the  cross  word  or  unkind  thought,  and  to  break  from  the  black 
uloud  that  still  at  times  would  envelop  her.  But  she  did  not 
give  way,  constantly  even  making  opportunities  for  self-denial 

10 


198  HOME   INFLUENCE. 

•xnd  doing  little  kindnesses  for  Ellen,  though  she  vvtu  too  truth- 
ful to  profess  an  affection  which  as  yet  she  could  not  feel. 

Early  in  the  following  week  Mr.  Grahaine  came  over  to  Oak- 
wood  with  a  petition.  Annie  having  taken  cold  at  the  party 
had  been  obliged  to  enact  the  invalid,  much  against  her  inclina- 
tion, and  so  entreated  her  mother  to  invite  Caroline  to  spend  a 
few  days  with  her ;  and,  to  her  astonishment,  her  cold,  harsh 
father  volunteered  to  go  himself  for  her.  Mr.  Hamilton  at 
once  acceded ;  his  wife  hesitated ;  but  she  went  at  once  to 
Caroline,  who  chanced  to  be  reading  alone  in  the  school-room, 
for  it  was  the  time  of  recreation,  and  told  her.  For  a  moment 
her  countenance  was  actually  radiant  with  delight,  the  next  it 
clouded  over. 

"  You  would  like  it  very  much,  but  you  are  afraid  I  shall 
not  permit  you  to  go  —  is  that  the  meaning  of  your  change  of 
countenance  ?  "  asked  her  mother,  half  smiling. 

"  I  am  afraid  of  myself,  mamma ;  for  I  fear  I  am  always 
more  ill-tempered  and  proud  after  any  such  pleasure  as  going 
to  Moorlands  would  be." 

"  Would  you  rather  not  go,  then  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  say  quite  that,  mamma ;  I  should  like  it  very 
much,  if  I  could  but  be  sure  of  myself  afterward." 

"  Did  you  ever  feel  such  a  doubt  of  yourself  before,  Caro- 
line, when  going  to  stay  with  Annie  ?  " 

"  No,  mamma ;  I  seem  to  have  thought  a  great  deal  more  the 
last  few  days,  and  not  to  feel  half  so  sure  of  myself." 

"  Then  I  think  there  is  less  danger  for  you,  that  is,  of  course, 
if  you  are  willing  to  risk  the  temptation  of  Lady  Helen's  too 
kind  consideration  and  lavish  praises,  which  make  mine  so 
very  tame." 

"  Oh,  mamma,  pray  do  not  say  so,"  interrupted  Caroline, 
very  eagerly.  "Indeed,  I  would  rather  hear  you  speak  and 
see  you  smile  as  you  do  now,  than  listen  to  all  that  Lady  Helen 
is  so  kind  as  to  say.  I  know  I  did  like  it  very  much,  and  that 
it  did  sometimes  make  me  fancy  when  I  came  home,  that  you 
were  almost  cold.  But,  indeed,  indeed,  I  hope  I  am  leaning 
to  know  you  better." 

"  I  hope  so,  too,  dearest.  But  Mr.  Grahame  is  waiting  for 
you  ;  and,  by-the-by,  begged  me  to  ask  you  for  some  lines  you 
promised  to  copy  out  for  a  print  in  Lady  Helen's  album.  You 
mjvy  do  just  as  you  like  about  going,  because  you  are  quite 
old  and  wise  enough  to  decide  for  yourself.  Ill-temper  always 
brings  such  suffering  with  it,  that  if  pleasure  must  recal1  it, 
you  will  be  wiser  not  to  go ;  but  if  you  can  resist  it  —  if  you 


HOME    INFLUENCE.  199 

think  you  can  return  to  your  quiet  daily  routine  as  forbearing 
and  gentle  and  happy  as  you  are  now,  go,  my  love,  and  enjoy 
yourself  as  much  as  you  can." 

"  I  will  try  and  remember  all  you  said  about  prayer  whec 
we  think  we  are  most  secure,  dear  mamma,"  answered  Caro- 
line, in  a  very  earnest  and  somewhat  lowered  voice.  "  I  knew 
whenever  I  have  been  to  Moorlands  before,  I  have  felt  s« 
elated,  so  sure  I  should  never  be  in  an  ill-temper,  so  proud 
from  being  made  so  much  of,  that  I  fear  I  have  very  often  re- 
laxed even  in  my  daily  prayers,  and  never  thought  it  necessary 
to  pray  against  ill-temper.  Do  you  think  if  I  watch  myself, 
and  still  pray  against  it,  it  will  save  me  from  being  cross  and 
unkind  on  my  return  ?  " 

"  It  will  undoubtedly  help  you,  my  dear  child,  very  consider- 
ably, and  render  your  trial  very  much  easier,  but  I  cannot 
promise  you  that  it  will  entirely  prevent  the  inclination  to  feel 
pettish  and  unhappy.  I  have  no  doubt  that  in  time  it  will 
prevent  even  that ;  but  now,  you  know,  it  is  very  early  days, 
and  you  have  not  yet  forgotten  the  bitter  pain  of  last  week ; 
still  I  think  you  may  venture  to  go,  love,  and  if  I  do  see  you 
happy  and  gentle  on  your  return,  it  will  do  much  toward  con- 
vincing me  you  are  striving  in  earnest.  Make  haste  and  get 
ready,  and  do  not  forget  the  poem.  I  will  send  over  your 
things.  Tell  Lady  Helen  I  shall  expect  all  her  family  next 
Monday  evening,  to  join  Edward's  little  farewell-party,  and 
you  can  return  with  them." 

With  the  most  delighted  alacrity  Caroline  hastened  to  get 
ready,  and  in  her  hurry  forgot  the  poem  till  she  reentered  the 
school-room,  which  was  still  untenanted. 

"  What  shaH  I  do  for  some  writing-paper  ?  "  she  thought ; 
"the  desks  are  all  put  away,  and  it  will  detain  me  so  long  to 
go  up  again  for  the  keys,  and  the  volume  is  too  large  to  carry 
—  oh,  I  will  tear  out  a  blank  page  from  this  book,  it  will  not 
je  very  elegant,  but  I  can  recopy  it  at  Moorlands." 

And  she  hastily  tore  out  a  page  from  an  exercise-book  which 
lay  open  on  the  table  ;  not  perceiving  that  by  doing  so,  a  fellow- 
leaf,  which  was  written  on,  was  loosened,  and  fell  to  the  ground, 
mingling  with  some  torn  papers  which  had  been  put  in  a  heap 
to  be  cleared  away.  She  had  just  finished  it,  when  Fanny 
came  t<r  tell  her  Mr.  Grahame  could  not  wait  ar.y  longer,  and 
asking  if  all  the  papers  on  the  ground  were  to  be  removed, 
Caroline  hastily  answered  in  the  affirmative,  without  looking  at 
them,  and  the  girl  bore  them  off  in  her  apron,  the  wr.'tten  leaf 
among  them. 


200  HOME    INFLUENCE. 

Now  it  so  happened  that  this  written  leaf  had  already  occa- 
sioned trouble.  Miss  Harcourt  had  been  so  displeased  witfc 
Ellen's  careless  performance  of  a  French  exercise  that  morn- 
ing, that  she  had  desired  her  to  write  it  again.  It  was  very 
difficult,  and  had  materially  shortened  the  time  which  she  had 
promised  to  devote  U>  Edward,  who  was  this  week  released 
from  his  attendance  on  Mr.  Howard,  to  permit  him  and  Ellen 
to  be  as  much  together  as  possible.  Hurried  by  him,  she  left 
her  book  open  on  the  table  to  dry,  and  finding  it  closed  on  her 
return,  put  it  away,  without  looking  at  it.  The  following  day 
Miss  Ilarcouitt  if  course,  requested  to  see  it,  and,  to  Ellen's 
utter  astonishment,  her  exercise  was  not  there ;  only  the  faulty 
and  blotted  theme,  with  no  sign  to  explain  its  disappearance. 
Now  we  know  Miss  Harcourt  was  rather  prejudiced  against 
Ellen,  and,  as  she  had  unhappily  failed  in  truth  more  than  once, 
(perhaps  she  was  not  so  unjust  and  harsh  as  poor  Ellen  felt  her 
to  be,)  she  refused  to  believe  her  assurance  that  she  had  written 
it.  No  one  had  been  in  the  school-room  at  the  time  to  whom 
she  could  refer ;  if  Ellen  had  never  disobeyed  or  deceived,  of 
course  her  word  would  be  sufficient,  as  her  brother's  and 
cousins'  would. 

"  That  you  have  failed  again,  both  in  obedience  and  truth, 
Ellen,  I  cannot  for  a  moment  doubt,  and  it  certainly  would  be 
my  duty  to  inform  your  aunt  directly ;  but  as  I  know  it  would 
cause  her  real  suffering  to  be  compelled  to  punish  you  just  this 
last  week  that  Edward  will  be  with  us  for  some  time,  I  shall 
say  nothing  about  it  to  her,  nor  inflict  any  penalty  on  you  to 
attract  her  notice,  but  it  is  entirely  for  her  sake  I  forbear.  One 
so  hardened  in  falsehood  as  you  must  be,  so  soon  to  forget  hei 
kind  indulgence  after  your  fault  only  a  few  weeks  ago,  can 
deserve  nothing  but  harshness  and  contempt.  I  shall  certainly, 
after  this  week,  warn  her  not  to  trust  too  implicitly  in  your 
artful  professions  of  repentance." 

Poor  Ellen  felt  too  bewildered  and  too  miserable  even  to 
cry.  That  she  had  written  her  exercise,  she  was  as  positive 
aa  that  she  had  been  told  to  do  so ;  but  if  she  had  —  what  had 
become  of  it  ?  Harsh  as  Miss  Harcourt  seemed,  appearances 
were  certainly  very  much  against  her.  She  had  not  a  single 
proof  that  she  had  obeyed,  and  her  word  was  nothing ;  even 
Emmeline  looked  at  her  doubtingly,  and  as  if  she  could  scarcely 
even  pity  her.  It  was  very  little  comfort  to  think  her  aunt 
was  not  to  be  told.  Her  own  impulse  was  to  go  to  her,  and 
tell  her  at  once ;  but  how  could  she  be  believed  ?  a^d  Mrs. 
Hamilton's  word  —  "If  I  ever  discover  another  •uitruth  you 


HOME  INFLUENCE.  201 

will  compel  me  to  adopt  still  severer  measures,  pain  as  it  will 
be  to  myself,"  the  remembrance  of  all  she  had  suffered,  the 
disappointment  it  would  be  to  her  aunt  to  think  all  she  had  said 
and  read  to  her  were  forgotten,  when  in  reality  she  was  con- 
stantly thinking  of  and  trying  to  act  on  them,  all  checked  the 
impulse,  and  terrified  her  into  silence. 

Miss  Harcourt  was  not  an  acute  physiognomist ;  she  could 
only  read  in  Ellen's  face  hardihood  and  recklessness.  We 
rather  think  Mrs.  Hamilton  would  have  read  something  very 
different ;  but  she  was  very  much  engaged  with  Edward,  and 
if  she  did  think  Ellen  looked  much  more  out  of  spirits,  she 
attributed  it  to  natural  feeling  at  the  rapid  approach  of  the  day 
of  separation.  For  her  brother's  sake,  to  prove  to  him  she 
could  enter  into  his  joy,  she  tried  very  hard  not  to  evince  the 
least  symptom  of  depression,  and  never  to  cry  before  him  at 
least ;  though  every  night  that  told  her  another  day  had  gone, 
and  brought  before  her  all  sorts  of  vague  feelings  and  fancies 
of  dread,  she  either  cried  herself  to  sleep,  or  laid  awake,  still 
more  unhappy.  The  suspicion  attached  to  her  seemed  to 
double  the  severity  of  the  trial  of  parting.  Edward  was  her 
own ;  Edward  must  love  her,  with  all  her  faults ;  but  even  her 
aunt,  her  kind,  dear,  good  aunt,  must  cease  to  have  any  affec- 
tion for  her,  if  so  constantly  believed  guilty  of  a  sin  so  terrible 
as  falsehood.  And  she  seemed  to  love  her  brother  still  more 
than  ever,  every  day  that  brought  the  hour  of  parting  nearer  — 
sometimes  as  if  she  could  not  bear  the  pain  of  not  being  able 
to  look  at  his  bright  face,  and  listen  to  his  glad  laugh  and  dear 
voice  for  three,  perhaps  six  long  years.  Her  aunt's  gentle 
kindness  seemed  to  increase  her  unhappiness,  for  though  she 
knew  she  was  innocent,  still  she  felt,  if  Miss  Harcourt  had  told 
Mrs.  Hamilton,  she  could  not  be  so  caressed  and  cared  for,  and 
she  was  receiving  that  which  she  was  believed  to  have  forfeited. 
Miss  Harcourt's  face  certainly  seemed  to  ask  her  as  distinctly 
as  words,  how  she  could  be  so  artful  —  so  deceitful  —  as  to 
permit  her  aunt  to  take  such  notice  of  her ;  and  so  she  often 
shrunk  away,  when  she  most  longed  to  sit  by  and  listen  to  her. 

Edward's  spirits  never  sobered,  except  now  and  then,  when 
he  thought  of  leaving  Mrs.  Hamilton,  to  whom  he  had  given 
the  same  love  he  had  lavished  on  his  mother,  perhaps  to  a  still 
greater  extent,  for  reverence  was  largely  mingled  with  it.  Mr 
Howard,  too,  was  another  whom  he  grieved  to  leave,  and  Mrs. 
Hamilton,  so  trusted  in  these  apparently  strong  affections  and  his 
good  disposition,  as  to  feel  but  little  anxiety ;  merely  sorrow 
that  she  was  to  lose  him  for  a  profession  of  danger.  She  did 


202  HOME   INFLUENCE. 

not  know,  nor  did  Mr.  Howard,  nor  Edward  himself,  that  hi 
was  one  who  would  be  guided  more  by  the  influence  of  those 
with  whom  l;e  was  intimately  thrown,  than  by  any  memory  of 
the  absent,  or  judgment  of  his  own. 

Ellett's  manner  on  Monday  evening  annoyed  and  prejudiced 
Miss  Harcourt  still  more  ;  Mrs.  Greville  and  Mary,  Lady 
Helen  and  all  her  family,  bringing  Caroline  home  with  them, 
Mr.  Howard,  and  some  of  Edward's  favorite  companions,  all 
assembled  at  Oakwood,  and  every  one  was  determined  to  be 
gay  and  cheerful,  and  Edward's  voice  was  the  merriest,  and  bis 
laugh  the  happiest  there ;  and  Ellen,  though  her  head  ached 
with  the  effort,  and  the  constant  struggle  of  the  preceding 
week,  was  quite  cheerful  too,  and  talked  to  Mary  Greville,  and 
Lilla  and  Cecil  Grahame,  and  even  to  Mr.  Howard,  as  Miss 
Harcourt  felt  she  had  no  right  to  do ;  and  as  must  prove  her 
to  be  that  which  she  had  always  fancied  her.  Mrs.  Hamilton, 
on  the  contrary,  saw  that  in  the  very  midst  of  a  laugh,  or  of 
speaking,  her  niece's  eye  would  rest  upon  Edward,  and  the  lip 
quite  quiver,  and  her  smile  become  for  the  moment  so  strained, 
that  she  was  satisfied  Ellen's  cheerfulness  proceeded  from  no 
want  of  feeling ;  she  wondered,  indeed,  at  so  much  control  at 
such  an  early  age,  but  she  loved  her  for  it,  notwithstanding. 
Once  only  Ellen  was  nearly  conquered.  Mary  had  begged  her 
to  sing  a  little  Hindoo  air,  of  which  she  was  particularly  fond, 
and  Edward,  hearing  the  request,  said  eagerly  — 

"  Do  sing  it,  dear  Ellen ;  I  am  quite  as  fond  of  it  as  Mary 
is,  for  it  seems  to  make  me  think  of  India  and  poor  mamma, 
and  it  will  be  such  a  long  time  before  I  hear  it  again." 

She  had  never  in  her  whole  life  felt  so  disinclined  to  sing, 
so  as  if  it  were  quite  impossible  —  as  if  she  must  cry  if  she 
did ;  but  Edward  would  think  it  so  unkind  if  she  refused,  for 
she  did  not  know  herself  why  his  very  words  should  have  in- 
creased the  difficulty,  and  what  reasons  could  she  give  him  ? 
Mary  went  and  asked  Mrs.  Hamilton  to  accompany  her ;  and 
Ellen  did  her  very  best,  but  her  voice  would  tremble,  and  just 
before  the  end  of  the  second  verse  it  failed  entirely ;  but  still 
she  was  glad  she  had  tried,  for  on  Mrs.  Hamilton  saying,  very 
kindly,  and  in  a  voice  that  only  she  and  Mary  could  hear,  "  I 
was  half  afraid  you  would  not  succeed  to-night,  my  dear  Ellen  ; 
but  you  were  quite  right  to  try,"  Mary  seemed  to  understand 
at  once  why  it  had  been  so  diilicult  for  her  to  oblige  her,  and 
to  be  quite  sorry  she  had  pressed  it  so  much,  and  Edward  had 
thanked  her,  and  told  her  he  should  sing  it  in  idea  very  of*.  »n- 
She  tried  to  be  merry  again,  but  she  could  not  succeed  as 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  203 

!)3fore,  and  sc  she  kept  as  near  her  aunt  as  she  could,  all  the 
remainder  of  the  evening,  as  if  she  were  only  safe  there. 

Edward,  too,  had  a  hard  battle  with  himself,  as  one  by  one 
his  favorite  companions  took  leave  of  him  with  a  hearty  shake 
of  the  hand,  and  eager,  but  in  some,  half-choked  wishes,  for 
his  health  and  prosperity ;  and  when  all  had  gone,  and  Mr. 
Howard,  who  had  remained  for  prayers,  took  him  in  his  arms, 
and  solemnly  prayed  God  to  bless  him,  and  save  him  from 
danger  and  temptation,  and  permit  him  to  return  to  his  family. 
Improved  in  all  things  that  ^ould  make  him  an  affectionate 
guardian  to  his  orphan  sister,  and  repay  all  th«  love  and  care 
of  his  aunt  and  uncle,  it  was  a  desperate  effort  that  prevented 
him  from  sobbing  like  a  child ;  but  he  had  his  midshipman's 
uniform  on  for  the  first  time,  and  he  was  quite  resolved  he 
would  not  disgrace  it ;  therefore  he  only  returned  Mr.  Howard's 
embrace  very  warmly,  and  ran  out  of  the  room.  But  when 
his  aunt  went  into  his  room  an  hour  afterward,  it  appeared  as 
if  he  had  put  off  his  pride  and  his  uniform  together,  for,  though 
he  was  fast  asleep,  his  pillow  was  quite  wet  with  tears. 

The  next  morning  was  a  very  sad  one,  though  Percy  and 
his  father  did  all  they  could  to  make  it  cheerful :  (we  ought  to 
have  said  before  that  Percy  and  Herbert  were  both  going  with 
Mr.  Hamilton  and  Edward.)  No  one  liked  the  idea  of  losing 
Edward  for  so  long  a  time.  He  had  made  himself  a  favorite 
with  all,  even  with  every  one  of  the  servants,  who,  when  the 
carriage  was  ready  at  eleven  o'clock,  thronged  into  the  hall  to 
take  a  last  look  at  him.  He  was  so  altered,  that  he  had  that 
morning,  actually  of  his  own  accord,  shaken  hands  with  every 
one  of  them  who  had  ever  done  any  thing  for  him,  especially 
Ellis  and  Morris,  and  Robert,  to  whom  he  had  given  a  very 
handsome  present,  and  thanked  him  for  all  his  attention. 

He  kept  up  very  manfully  till  he  came  to  his  aunt,  whose 
emotion,  as  she  held  him  in  a  close  embrace,  was  so  unusually 
visible,  and  for  the  moment  he  seemed  so  to  love  her,  that  the 
idea  of  the  sea  lost  half  its  delight,  and  he  felt  as  if  he  could 
almost  have  liked  to  remain  with  her.  But  Percy's  joyous 
voice  — 

"  Come,  Master  Edward,  I  thought  you  were  a  sailor,  not  a 
schoolboy  ;  off  with  you  ;  you  will  not  give  me  time  or  room 
for  one  kiss  from  mamma  before  we  go,"  —  roused  him,  and  he 
tried  to  laugh  in  the  midst  of  his  tears,  gave  Ellen  another 
Uiss,  and  ran  into  the  carriage,  where  he  was  quickly  followed 
by  his  uncle  and  cousins,  and  in  a  very  few  minutes  Oakwood, 
dear,  happy  Oakwood,  as  his  whole  heart  felt  it  at  thai,  moment 
was  hidden  from  his  sight. 


204  HOME   INFLUENCE. 

Ellen  remained  by  the  window,  looking  after  the  carriage 
long  after  it  was  impossible  to  see  or  hear  it,  very  pale,  and  he: 
eyes  very  heavy,  but  not  in  tears  ;  and  as  her  aunt  went  to  her, 
and  put  her  arm  round  her,  and  began  talking  to  her  very 
cheerfully  of  all  Edward  Avould  have  to  write  to  her  about,  and 
how  soon  they  might  hear  from  him,  and  that  Ellen  should  an- 
swer him  as  often  and  as  fully  as  she  liked,  and  that  she  would 
not  even  ask  to  see  her  letters  to  him,  or  all  his  to  her,  as  they 
might  have  many  little  affectionate  things  to  say  to  each  other 
that  they  might  not  care  about  any  one  else  seeing,  and  sh« 
would  trust  them  both  —  Ellen  seemed  as  if  one  pain  was 
soothed,  and  if  indeed  she  heai-d  often  from  him,  she  might  bear 
his  departure.  But  there  was  still  the  other  source  of  unhap- 
piness,  recalled  every  time  she  met  Miss  Harcourt's  cold,  sus- 
picious look,  which  had  not  changed  even  then.  Still  she  tried 
to  join  her  cousins,  and  get  her  work,  for  there  were  no  studies 
that  morning,  and  so  some  little  time  passed,  by  Mrs.  Hamil- 
ton's exertions,  almost  cheerfully ;  but  then  Ellen  left  the  room 
to  get  something  she  wanted,  and,  in  seeking  her  own,  passed 
Edward's  room,  the  door  of  which  stood  half  open.  She  could 
not  resist  entering,  and  every  thing  spoke  of  him  so  vividly, 
and  yet  seemed  so  to  tell  her  he  had  gone,  really  gone,  and  she 
was  quite  alone,  that  all  the  pain  came  back  again  Avorse  than 
ever,  and  she  laid  her  head  on  his  pillow,  and  her  long-checked 
tears  flowed  with  almost  passionate  violence. 

"  My  dear  Ellen,  I  have  been  looking  for  you  everywhere," 
said  her  aunt's  kind  voice,  full  an  hour  afterward  ;  "  Ernrneline 
went  into  your  room  and  could  not  find  you,  and  I  could  not 
imagine  what  had  become  of  you.  It  was  not  wise  of  you  to 
come  here  just  this  morning,  love.  You  have  been  so  brave, 
so  unselfish  all  this  week,  that  I  must  not  let  you  give  way  now. 
Try  and  think  only  that  Edward  will  be  happier  as  a  sailor 
than  he  would  be  remaining  with  you ;  and  though  I  know  you 
must  miss  him  very,  very  painfully,  you  will  be  able  to  bear  it 
better.  Poor  Alice  Seaton,  of  whom  you  have  heard  me  speak, 
has  no  such  comfort ;  her  brother  could  not  bear  the  idea  of  a 
sea  life,  and  is  scarcely  strong  enough  for  it ;  and  yet,  poor  fel- 
low, it  is  the  only  opening  his  uncle  has  for  him,  and  his  poor 
vister  has  not  only  that  pain  to  bear  —  for  you  can  fancy  how 
dreadful  it  would  be,  if  Edward  had  left  us  for  a  life  in  which 
he  thought  he  should  be  miserable  —  but  is  obliged  to  leave  the 
aunt  she  loves,  as  much,  I  think,  as  you  love  me,  Ellen,  and  go 
as  a  teacher  in  a  school,  to  bear  her  accumulated  sorrow  quite 
tilone.  Sad  as  your  trial  is,  you  have  still  many  hings  to  bless 


HOME  INFLUENCE.  20.1 

God  for,  deaiest,  a&  I  am  sure  you  will  acknowledge,  if,  when 
the  pain  of  the  present  moment  has  subsided,  you  think  of  Alice, 
and  try  to  put  yourself  in  her  place." 

"  It  is  not  only  parting  from  Edward,"  answered,  Ellen  try- 
ing to  check  her  tears,  but  clasping  her  arms  still  closer  round 
her  aunt  as  if  dreading  that  her  own  words  should  send  her 
from  her. 

"  Not  only  parting  from  Edward,  Ellen,  love !  what  is  it 
then  ?  tell  me,"  replied  Mrs.  Hamilton,  surprised  and  almost 
ularmed.  But  Ellen  could  not  go  on,  much  as  she  wished  it, 
for  her  momentary  courage  had  deserted  her,  and  she  coul 
ouly  cry  more  bitterly  than  before.  "  Have  you  done  any  thing 
wrong,  Ellen  ?  and  have  you  forgotten  my  promise  ?  "  inquired 
her  aunt,  after  waiting  several  minutes,  and  speaking  very  sor- 
rowfully. 

"  Miss  Harcourt  thinks  I  have,  aunt ;  but  indeed,  indeed,  I 
have  not ;  I  have  not  been  so  very  wicked  as  to  tell  another 
falsehood.  I  know  no  one  can  believe  me,  but  I  would  rather 
you  should  know  it,  even  if —  if  you  punish  me  again." 

"  You  musk  try  to  be  more  calm,  my  dear  Ellen,  and  tell  me 
clearly  what  is  causing  you  so  much  additional  suffering ;  for  1 
cannot  quite  understand  you.  I  certainly  shall  not  punish  you, 
unless  quite  convinced  you  have  failed  in  truth  again,  which  I 
do  not  think  you  have.  Tell  me  exactly  what  it  is,  and  look  at 
me  while  you  are  speaking." 

Ellen  tried  to  obey,  but  her  grief  had  gained  such  an  ascend- 
ency, that  it  wa,s  very  difficult.  Mrs.  Hamilton  looked  very 
thoughtful  when  she  ceased,  for  she  really  was  more  perplexed 
than  she  allowed  Ellen  to  perceive ;  and  the  poor  child  fancy- 
ing her  silence  could  only  mean  disbelief  and  condemnation, 
remained  quiet  and  trembling  by  her  side. 

"  I  promised  you  that  I  would  not  doubt  you,  Ellen,  and  I 
will  not  now,  though  appearances  are  so  strong  against  you," 
she  said,  after  several  minutes'  thought.  "  Come  with  me  to  the 
school-room,  and  show  me  your  exercise-book  ;  I  may  find  some 
clew  to  explain  this  mystery." 

Ellen  thought  that  was  quite  impossible  ;  but,  inexpressibly 
comforted  by  her  aunt's  trust,  she  went  with  her  directly. 

"  Ellen  has  been  telling  me  that  you  have  been  very  much 
displeased  with  her,  my  clear  Lucy,"  Mrs.  Hamilton  said,  directly 
she  entered,  addressing  Miss  Harcourt,  who  was  sitting  read- 
ing with  Caroline  and  Emmeline,  "  and  certainly  with  great 
apparent  justice ;  but  she  is  so  unhappy  about  it,  that  I  can 
scarcely  believe  that  she  has  forgotten  all  which  passed  between 


£06  IIOME   INFLUENCE. 

us  a  short  time  ago,  and  I  ain  going,  therefore,  with  your 
mission,  to  try  if  I  cannot  discover  something  that  may  throw  a 
light  on  the  subject." 

"I  am  afraid  that  scarcely  will  be  possible,"  replied  Miss 
Harcourt ;  "  however,  I  am  glad  she  has  had  the  candor  to  tell 
you,  instead  of  continuing  to  receive  your  notice,  as  she  has 
dzno  the  last  week."  Ellen  had  brought  her  book  while  Misa 
Harcourt  was  speaking,  and  Mrs.  Hamilton  attentively  exa 
mined  it." 

"  Did  you  not  begin  one  like  this  the  same  day,  Caroline  ?  " 

"  Yes,  mamma ;  don't  you  remember  we  were  obliged  to 
tend  to  Han-is  for  them  ?  as  the  parcel  with  the  stationery  did 
not  come  from  Exeter  as  soon  as  we  expected.  And  we  no- 
ticed how  much  thinner  they  were,  though  they  were  the  same 
sized  books." 

"  And  did  I  not  hear  you  say  something  about  their  having 
the  same  number  of  leaves,  and  therefore  it  must  have  been 
only  the  quality  of  the  paper  which  made  the  difference  ?  " 

"  What  a  memory  you  have,  mamma,"  answered  Caroline, 
smiling.  "  I  did  not  think  you  were  taking  the  least  notice  of 
us,  but  I  do  remember  saying  so  now,  and,  indeed,  I  very  often 
wish  the  quality  had  been  the  same,  for  our  writing  looks 
horrid." 

"  Do  .you  happen  to  remember  the  number  of  leaves  they 
contained,  and  if  they  were  both  alike  ?  " 

"  I  know  they  had  both  the  same  number,  and  I  think  it  was 
two-and-twenty,  but  I  can  tell  you  in  a  moment."  And  with 
her  usual  quickness  of  movement,  Caroline  unlocked  her  desk, 
drew  forth  her  book,  and  ran  over  the  leaves. 

"  I  am  right  —  two-and-twenty." 

"  And  you  are  quite  sure  they  had  both  the  same  number  ?  " 

"  Perfectly  certain,  mamma." 

"  Then,  by  some  incomprehensible  means,  two  leaves  have 
disappeared  from  Ellen's  —  here  are  only  twenty.  Have  you 
ever  torn  a  leaf  out,  Ellen  ?  " 

"  No,  aunt,  indeed  I  have  not.' 

"  When  did  Miss  Harcourt  tell  you  to  write  this  missing  ex- 
ercise ?  " 

"  Last  Monday  week  —  I  mean  yesterday  week." 

"  Where  did  you  write  it,  and  what  did  you  do  with  youi 
book  afterward  ?  " 

"  I  wrote  it  at  this  table,  aunt :  I  was  so  sorry  I  had  to  do 
it,  when  Edward  depended  so  much  on  my  going  out  with  him, 
that  I  thought  it  Avould  save  time  not  to  get  my  desk  ;  and  as 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  207 

soon  as  it  was  done,  I  left  it  open  to  dry.  When  1  canie  home 
it  was  closed,  and  I  put  it  away  without  looking  at  it,  and  the 
next  morning  the  exercise  was  not  there." 

"  Who  was  in  this  room  after  you  left  it  ?  by-the-by,  it  was 
the  morning  you  went  to  Lady  Helen's,  Caroline ;  did  you  no- 
tice Ellen's  book  open,  as  she  said  ?  Why,  what  is  the  matter, 
my  dear  ?  "  she  added,  observing  that  Caroline  looked  as  if 
some  sudden  light  had  flashed  upon  her,  and  then,  really 
grieved. 

"  I  am  so  very,  very  sorry,  mamma ;  I  do  believe  it  has  been 
nil  my  haste  and  carelessness  that  has  caused  Ellen  all  this  uu 
happiness.  I  was  in  such  a  hurry  to  copy  the  poem  for  Lady 
Helen,  that  I  tore  a  blank  leaf  out  of  an  open  book  on  the 
table,  without  thinking  whose  it  was.  In  my  haste  the  book 
fell  to  the  ground,  I  picked  it  up  to  write  on  it,  but  never  no- 
ticed if  the  fellow-leaf  fell  out,  which  it  must  have  done,  and 
no  doubt  Fanny  carried  it  away  with  some  other  torn  papers, 
which  she  asked  me  if  she  were  to  destroy.  I  am  more  sorry 
than  I  can  tell  you,  Ellen ;  pray  believe  that  I  did  not  do  it 
purposely." 

"  I  am  sure  she  will,  if  it  be  only  for  the  comfort  of  our 
knowing  the  truth,"  said  Mrs.  Hamilton,  truly  relieved,  not 
only  from  the  explanation,  but  perceiving  Caroline's  voluntarily 
offered  kiss  was  willingly  and  heartily  returned  by  Ellen.  It 
was  almost  the  first  she  had  ever  seen  exchanged  between 
them. 

"  I  must  believe  you,  dear  Caroline,  for  you  never  say  W7hat 
you  do  not  mean,"  said  Ellen,  earnestly ;  "  but  I  do  so  wish 
Miss  Harcourt  could  see  my  exercise ;  she  would  quite  believe 
me  then." 

"  And  we  should  all  be  more  satisfied,"  replied  Mrs.  Hamil- 
ton, perceiving  in  a  moment  that  Miss  Harcourt  still  doubted, 
and  ringing  the  bell,  she  desired  the  footman  to  send  Fanny  to 
her. 

"  Do  you  remember  taking  some  torn  papers  from  this  room 
the  morning  you  went  to  tell  Miss  Hamilton  that  Mr.  Grahame 
was  waiting  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Yes,  madam." 

"  And  were  they  all  torn  up  in  small  pieces  ?  " 

"  No,  madam ;  there  was  one  like  the  page  out  of  a  book, 
which  made  me  ask  Miss  Hamilton  if  they  were  all  to  be  de- 
Btrcyed.  It  was  such  a  nice  clean  piece,  only  being  written  on 
one  side,  that  I  wrapped  up  some  lace  in  it  —  Mrs.  Ellis  hav- 
ing only  half  an  hour  before  scolded  me  for  not  keeping  it  mere 
carfcfully." 


208  HOME  INFLUENCE. 

"  Bring  me  the  leaf,  my  good  girl,  and  Miss  Ellen  will  give 
you  a  still  better  piece  for  the  purpose,"  replied  her  mistress, 
quite  unable  to  suppress  a  smile,  and  Ellen  hastily  took  out  a 
arge  sheet  of  writing  paper,  and  the  moment  Fanny  returned 
(she  seemed  gone  an  age)  gave  it  to  her,  and  seized  her  own. 
which  she  placed  in  her  aunt's  hand,  without  being  able  to 
speak  a  single  word. 

"  I  think  that  is  the  very  theme,  and  certainly  Ellen's  writ- 
ing, my  dear,  Lucy;  we  can  have  no  more  doubt  now,"  said 
Mrs.  Hamilton,  the  moment  Fanny  had  left  the  room,  delight 
ed  with  the  exchange,  and  drawing  Ellen  close  to  her,  for  the 
poor  child  could  really  scarcely  stand. 

"  I  have  done  you  injustice,  Ellen,  and  I  beg  your  pardon," 
replied  Miss  Harcourt  directly,  and  Mrs.  Hamilton  would  have 
been  better  pleased  had  she  stopped  there,  but  she  could  not 
help  adding,  "  You  know  I  should  never  have  doubted  you,  if 
you  had  not  so  often  forfeited  truth." 

Ellen's  first  impulse  had  been  to  go  to  her,  but  her  las  I 
words  caused  her  to  bury  her  face  on  her  aunt's  shoulder. 

"  I  really  think,  Ellen,  you  ought  to  thank  Ellis  for  giving 
Fanny  a  scolding,  as  it  has  done  you  such  excellent  service," 
resumed  Mrs.  Hamilton,  playfully ;  "  and  what  fee  are  you 
going  to  give  me  for  taking  upon  myself  to  prove  your  inno- 
cence in  open  court  ?  I  think  myself  so  very  clever,  that  I 
shall  tell  Percy  I  am  a  better  lawyer  without  study,  than  he 
can  hope  to  be  with.  You  don't  seem  to  be  very  capable  of 
doing  any  thing  but  kissing  me  now,  and  so  I  will  not  be  very 
exacting.  You  have  cried  yourself  almost  ill,  and  so  must  bear 
the  penalty.  Go  and  lie  down  in  my  dressing-room  for  an  hour 
or  two ;  Emmelinc,  go  with  your  cousin,  and  see  what  a  kind, 
affectionate  nurse  you  can  be  till  I  come.  It  is  never  too  early 
to  practise  such  a  complete  woman's  office." 

Emmeline,  quite  proud  of  the  charge,  and  more  grieved  than 
:>he  very  well  knew  how  to  expressj  till  she  was  quite  alone 
with  Ellen,  that  she,  too,  had  suspected  and  been  cold  to  her 
the  last  week,  left  the  room  with  her  cousin.  Caroline  seemed 
lo  hesitate  for  a  moment,  but  she  was  quite  certain  by  her 
mother's  face  that  she  wished  to  speak  with  Miss  Harcourt,  and 
r>o,  without  being  told,  took  up  her  book,  and  went  into  the 
library. 

"And  now,  Lucy,  I  am  going  to  ask  you  a  personal  favor," 
began  Mrs.  Hamilton,  the  moment  they  were  alone. 

"•That  I  Aviil  try  and  not  judge  Ellen  so  harshly  again,"  was 
her  instant  reply ;  "  you  have  every  right  to  desire  it,  my  dear 


HOME  iNFLUESCE.  209 

fritnd,  not  to  ask  it  as  a  favor;  I  was  too  prejudice1!  and  too 
hasty  ;  but  your  own  dear  children  are  so  truthful,  so  open,  that 
I  fear  they  have  quite  spoiled  me  for  the  necessary  patience 
and  forbearance  with  others." 

"•  You  have  not  quite  guessed  it,  Lucy.  Appearances  were 
30  very  strongly  against  that  poor  child,  that  I  ain  not  at  all 
istonished  you  should  have  disbelieved  her  assertion.  In  the 
moment  of  irritation,  it  is  not  unlikely  I  should  have  done  so 
myself;  but  the  favor  I  am  going  to  ask  you,  is  merely  that 
you  will  try  and  never  show  that  you  doubt  her  word,  or  refer 
to  her  past  failures.  I  am  quite  convinced  that  untruth  is  not 
Ellen's  natural  disposition,  but  that  it  has  been  caused  by  the 
same  circumstances  which  have  made  her  such  a  painfully 
timid,  too  humble  character.  If,  with  all  her  efforts  to  conquer 
herself,  she  still  finds  her  word  doubted,  and  the  past  brought 
forward,  she  never  will  be  able  to  succeed.  Examine  as  strictly 
and  carefully  as  you  please,  and  as  I  am  sure  she  will  desire, 
if  necessary  —  as  she  did  to-day  —  but  oblige  me,  and  never 
doubt  her.  If  she  finds  we  never  do,  it  will  raise  her  self-es- 
teem, and  give  her  a  still  further  incentive  to  adhere  as  strictly 
to  the  truth,  as  she  sees  we  believe  she  does.  I  am  certain  the 
habit  of  falsehood  has  often  been  strengthened  by  the  injudi- 
cious and  cruel  references  to  one  or  two  childish  failures.  If  ] 
am  never  to  be  believed,  what  is  the  use  of  trying  to  tell  the 
truth  ?  is  the  very  natural  question ;  and  the  present  pain  of 
carefulness  being  greater  than  the  visible  amount  of  evil,  the 
habit  is  confirmed.  Will  you  oblige  me  ?  " 

"  Of  course  I  will,  dearest  Mrs.  Hamilton  ;  how  can  you  talk 
so  !  Have  you  not  a  right  to  desire  what  you  think  proper,  in 
my  guidance  of  your  children,  instead  of  so  appealing  to  me  as 
an  equal  ?  " 

"And  are  you  not?  My  dear  Lucy,  have  I  ever,  in  act  or 
word,  considered  you  otherwise  ?  In  the  very  intrusting  my 
children  to  your  care,  do  I  not  prove  that  I  must  think  you 
so  ?  Have  you  lived  with  me  all  these  years,  and  not  yet  dis- 
covered that  I  have  some  few  notions  peculiar  perhaps  to  my- 
self, but  that  one  among  them  is,  that  we  can  never  consider 
too  much,  or  be  too  grateful  to  those  invaluable  friends  who 
help  us  in  the  training  of  our  children  ?  " 

u  I  have  lived  long  enough  with  you  to  know  th.'it  'ihere 
never  was,  never  can  be,  any  woman  like  you,  either  as  wife, 
mother,  mistress,  or  friend ! "  exclaimed-  Miss  Harcourt,  wivia 
most  unusual  fervor. 

"You  did  n:>t  know  yo;ir  own  mother,  deare-,t  Lucy,  as  hjw 


210  IIOMK   INFLUENCE. 

I  wish  you  had,  or  you  would  not  think  so.  Every  firm,  truth- 
ful, estimable  quality  I  may  possess,  under  God's  blessing,  I 
owe  to  her.  As  a  young  child,  before  she  came  to  me,  and 
some  years  afterward,  I  was  more  like  Ellen  than  either  of  my 
own  darlings  ;  and  that  perhaps  explains  the  secret  of  my  love 
for,  and  forbearance  with  her." 

"  Like  Ellen ! "  repeated  Miss  Ilarcourt,  much  surprised  ; 
"  forgive  me,  but,  indeed,  I  can  scarcely  believe  it." 

"It  is  truth,  notwithstanding  ;  my  poor  father's  great  prefer- 
ence for  Eleanor,  when  we  were  children,  her  very  superior 
beauty  and  quickness,  threw  me  back  into  myself;  and  I  am 
quite  certain  if  it  had  not  been  for  your  excellent  mother,  who 
came  to  live  with  us  when  I  was  only  seven,  my  character 
would  have  suffered  as  much  from  neglect  on  the  one  side,  and 
too  painful  humility  on  my  own,  as  Ellen's  has  done.  I  can 
understand  her  feelings  of  loneliness,  disappreciation,  shrinking 
into  herself,  better  even  than  she  does  herself." 

"  But  your  affection  and  kindness  ought  to  have  altered  her 
character  by  this  time." 

"  Hardly  —  eighteen  months  is  not  long  enough  to  remove 
the  painful  impressions  and  influences  of  eleven  sorrowful 
years.  Besides,  I  scarcely  know  all  these  influences  ;  I  fear 
sometimes  that  she  has  endured  more  than  I  am  aware  of.  So 
you  must  think  charitably  of  my  fancy,  dearest  Lucy,"  she 
added,  smiling,  "  and  help  me  to  make  Ellen  as  much  like  me 
as  a  woman,  as  I  believe  she  is  to  me  as  a  child ;  and  to  do  so, 
try  and  think  a  little,  a  very  little,  more  kindly  and  hopefully 
of  her  than  you  do." 

"  J  really  do  wish  you  were  not  quite  so  penetrating,  dearest 
Mrs.  Hamilton  ;  there  is  no  hiding  a  single  feeling  or  fancy 
from  you,"  answered  Miss  Ilarcourt,  slightly  confused,  but 
laughing  at  the  same  time.  "  What  with  your  memory,  and 
your  quick  observation,  and  your  determined  notice  of  little 
things,  you  really  are  a  most  dangerous  person  to  live  with ; 
and  if  you  were  not  more  kind,  and  indulgent,  and  true  than 
anybody  else,  we  should  all  be  frightened  to  come  near  you." 

"  I  am  glad  I  have  some  saving  qualities,"  replied  Mrs.  Ha- 
milton, laughing  also;  "it  would  be  rather  hard  to  be  isolated 
because  I  can  read  other  people's  thoughts.  However,  we 
have  entered  into  a  compact,"  she  continued,  rather  more  seri- 
ously ;  "  you  will  never  show  that  you  doubt  ELlen,  and  in  any 
difficult  matter,  come  at  once  to  me,"  and  Miss  Ilarcourt  will- 
ingly assented. 

The  day  pa^-iecl  much  more  happily  than  the  morning  could 


IIOMli    INFLUENCE.  211 

l"we  anticipated.  Emmeline's  nursing  was  so  affectionate  and 
successful,  that  Ellen  was  quite  able  to  join  them  at  dinner 
and  her  aunt  had  selected  such  a  very  interesting  story  to  read 
aloud,  in  which  one  character  was  a  young  sailor,  that  the 
hours  seemed  to  fly ;  and  then  they  had  a  long  talk  about  poor 
Alice  Seaton  and  her  brother,  whether  it  would  be  possible  for 
Mr.  Hamilton  to  place  young  Seaton  in  a  situation  that  he 
liked  better,  and  that  his  health  was  more  fitted  for.  Ellen 
said  she  should  like  to  see  and  know  Alice  so  much,  for  her 
trial  must  be  such  a  very  hard  one,  that  her  aunt  promised  her 
she  should  in  the  midsummer  holidays,  for  Alice  should  then 
come  and  spend  a  week  with  them.  It  seemed  as  if  not  to  be 
able  to  wish  Edward  good-night,  and  kiss  him,  brought  back 
some  of  the  pain  again  ;  but  she  found  that  thinking  about  poor 
Alice,  and  fancying  how  miserable  she  must  be,  if  she  loved 
her  aunt  as  dearly  as  she  did  Mrs.  Hamilton,  to  be  obliged  to 
part  from  her  as  well  as  her  brother,  and  live  at  a  school,  made 
her  pain  seem  less  absorbing ;  as  if  to  help  Alice  Avould  do 
more  toward  curing  it  than  any  thing.  And  though,  of  course, 
every  day,  for  a  little  while,  she  seemed  to  miss  Edward  mere 
and  more,  still  her  aunt's  affection  and  her  own  efforts,  prepared 
her  to  see  her  uncle  and  cousins  return,  and  listen  to  all  they 
could  tell  her  about  him,  without  any  increase  of  pain. 


PART   III 
SIN    AND    SUFFERING. 


CHAPTER  I. 

ADVANCE    AND    RETROSPECT. 

OUR  readers  must  imagine  that  two  years  and  four  oioutha 
have  elapsed  since  our  last  visit  to  the  inmates  of  Oakwood. 
It  was  the  first  week  in  March  that  Edward  Fortescue  (only 
wanting  ten  days  for  the  completion  of  his  fourteenth  year) 
quitted  a  home  which  was  happier  than  any  he  had  ever  known, 
to  enter  the  world  as  a  sailor ;  and  it  is  the  7th  of  June,  two 
years  later,  the  day  on  which  Ellen  Fortescue  completes  her 
fifteenth  year,  that  we  recommence  our  narrative. 

Over  this  interval,  however,  much  as  we  are  anxious  to  pro- 
ceed, we  must  take  a  brief  glance,  clearly  to  understand  the 
aspect  of  the  Oakwood  home  affairs,  which,  from  the  increasing 
age  of  the  younger  members,  had  undergone  some  slight  change. 
The  greatest  and  most  keenly  felt  was  the  departure  of  Percy 
and  Herbert  for  college,  the  October  twelvemonth  after  Edward 
had  gone ;  the  house  seemed  actually  desolate  without  them. 
Percy's  wild  jokes  and  inexhaustible  spirits,  and  Herbert's 
quiet,  unobtrusive  kindness,  much  as  they  had  always  been 
truly  appreciated  by  their  home  circle,  still  scarcely  seemed  to 
have  been  fully  felt  till  the  young  men  were  gone ;  and  the  old 
house  actually  seemed  enwrapped  in  a  silence,  which  it  re- 
quired very  determined  effort  on  the  part  of  all  who  remained 
in  the  least  degree  to  dispel. 

Our  readers  who  are  mothers,  and  earnest  ones,  will  easily 
understand  the  anxious  tremblings  of  Mrs.  Hamilton's  heart, 
when  she  parted  from  her  boys  for  the  world :  for  such,  to 
spirits  fresh,  boyish,  unsophisticated,  as  they  still  were,  Oxfc  rd 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  213 

could  not  fail  to  be.  For  Herbert,  indeed,  she  had  neither 
fear  t  or  doubt :  no  sneer,  no  temptation,  no  bad  example,  would 
affect  him,  in  whom  every  passing  year  seemed  to  increase  and 
deepen  those  exalted  feelings  which,  in  his  earliest  childhood, 
had  "  less  in  them  of  earth  than  heaven."  His  piety  was  so 
real,  his  faith  so  fervent,  his  affections  so  concentrated  in  his 
borne  and  in  one  other  individual,  his  love  and  pursuit  of  study 
so  ardent  and  unceasing,  his  one  aim,  to  become  worthy  in 
heart  and  mind  to  serve  God  as  his  minister,  so  ever  present, 
that  he  was  effectually  guarded  even  from  the  world.  Percy 
had  none  of  these  feelings  to  the  same  extent,  save  his  ardent_ 
love  for  home  and  its  inmates  —  his  mother,  above  all.  He 
did,  indeed,  give  every  promise  that  the  principles  so  carefully 
instilled  had  taken  firm  root,  and  would  guide  his  conduct  in 
the  world;  but  Mrs.  Hamilton  was  too  humble-minded  —  too 
convinced  that  every  human  effort  is  imperfect,  without  the 
sustaining  and  vitalizing  grace  of  God,  to  rest  in  security,  as 
many  might  have  done,  that  because  she  had  so  worked,  so 
prayed,  she  must  succeed.  She  was  hopeful,  indeed,  very 
hopeful  —  how  could  she  be  otherwise  when  she  beheld  his 
deep,  though  silent,  reverence  for  sacred  things  —  his  constant 
and  increasing  respect  and  love  for  his  father  —  his  devoted 
affection  for  herself — his  attachment  to  Herbert,  which  seemed 
so  strangely  yet  so  beautifully  to  combine  almost  reverence  for 
his  superior  mind  and  holier  spirit,  with  the  caressing  protect- 
iveness  of  an  elder  for  a  younger  —  a  stronger  for  a  weaker? 
There  was  much  in  all  this  to  banish  anxiety  altogether,  but 
not  from  such  a  heart  as  Mrs.  Hamilton's,  whose  very  multi- 
plicity of  blessings  made  her  often  tremble,  and  led  her  to  the 
footstool  of  her  God,  with  a  piety  as  humble,  as  constant,  as 
fervent,  as  many  believe  is  the  fruit  of  adversity  alone. 

Caroline  had  sufficiently  improved  as  greatly  to  decrease 
solicitude  on  her  account :  though  there  was  still  a  want  of 
sufficient  humility,  a  too  great  proneness  to  trust  implicitly  in 
her  own  strength,  an  inclination  to  prejudice,  and  a  love  of 
admiration,  which  all  made  Mrs.  Hamilton  fear  would  expose 
her  to  some  personal  sorrow  ere  they  were  entirely  overcome. 
To  produce  eternal  good,  she  might  not  murmur  at  temporal 
suffering ;  but  her  fond  heart,  though  it  could  anticipate  it 
valmly  for  herself,  so  shrunk  from  it.  as  touching  her  child,  that 
the  nearer  approached  the  period  of  Caroline's  introduction  to 
the  gay  world,  the  more  painfully  anxious  she  became,  and  the 
more  gladly  would  she  have  retained  her  in  the  retirement  of 
Oakwood,  where  all  her  better  and  higher  qualities  al  >ne  had 


2M  HOME    INFLUENCE. 

play.  But  she  knew  this  could  not  be ;  and  she  could  o.ilv 
(rust  that  her  anxiety  would  be  proved  as  groundless  with  Ca- 
roline, as  every  letter  from  Oxford  proved  it  to  be  with  Percy, 
and  endeavor  to  avert  it  by  never  wavering  in  her  watchful  and 
guiding  love. 

Emmeline,  at  fifteen,  was  just  the  same  sportive,  happy, 
innocent  child  as  she  had  been  at  twelve.  Her  feelings  were, 
indeed,  still  deeper,  her  imagination  more  vivid,  her  religion 
more  fervid.  To  her  every  thing  was  touched  with  poetry  —  it 
mattered  not  how  dull  and  commonplace  it  might  seem  to  other 
people ;  but  Mrs.  Hamilton's  judicious  care  had  so  taught  that 
Truth  alone  was  poetry  and  beauty  —  the  Ideal  only  lovable 
when  its  basis  was  the  Real  —  that  she  was  neither  romantic  nor 
visionary.  Keen  as  her  sensibilities  were,  even  over  a  work 
of  fiction,  they  prompted  the  deed  and  act  of  kindness,  not  the 
tear  alone.  For  miles  round  her  father's  large  domain  she 
was  known,  loved,  so  felt  as  a  guardian  spirit,  that  the  very 
sound  of  her  step  seemed  to  promise  joy.  She  actually  seemed 
to  live  for  others  —  making  their  pleasures  hers  ;  and,  withal, 
so  joyous,  especially  in  her  own  home  and  at  Greville  Manor, 
that  even  anxiety  seemed  exorcised  when  she  was  near.  Be- 
fore strangers,  indeed,  she  would  be  as  shy  as  a  young  fawn  ; 
though  even  then  natural  kindliness  of  heart  prompted  such 
kindness  of  word  and  manner,  as  always  to  excite  the  wish  to 
see  her  again. 

Edward,  in  the  two  years  and  a  quarter  which  he  had  been' 
away,  had  only  once  occasioned  anxiety.  Two  or  three  months 
after  he  had  sailed,  he  wrote  home  in  the  highest  terms  of  a 
certain  Gilbert  Harding,  one  of  the  senior  midshipmen  of  his 
ship,  from  whom  he  had  received  kindness  upon  kindness ;  and 
who,  being  six  or  seven  years  older  than  himself,  he  jestingly 
wrote  to  his  aunt  and  uncle,  must  certainly  be  the  very  best 
friend  he  could  have  chosen,  as  he  was  much  too  old  to  lead 
him  into  mischief.  Why  he  (Harding)  had  taken  such  a  fancy 
to  him,  Edward  could  not  tell ;  but  he  was  so  excessively  kind, 
so  taught  him  his  duty,  and  smoothed  all  the  difficulties  and  dis- 
agreeables which,  he  owned,  had  at  first  seemed  overwhelming, 
that  he  never  could  be  grateful  enough.  He  added,  that, 
though  not  a  general  favorite  with  his  immediate  messmates,  he 
was  very  highly  esteemed  by  Sir  Edward  Manly  and  his  other 
superior  officers,  and  that  the  former  had  much  commended  him 
for  his  kindness  to  the  youngest  boy  on  board,  which  Edward 
was.  It  was  very  easy  to  perceive  that  young  Fortescue's  sus- 
ceptible nflections  had  all  been  not  only  attracted,  but  already 


HOME    INFLUENCE.  215 

riveted  by  this  new  friend.  All  the  young  party  of  Oakwood 
rejoiced  at  it ;  Mrs.  Hamilton  would  have  done  so  also,  had  she 
not  perceived  an  anxious  expression  on  her  husband's  face, 
which  alarmed  her.  He  did  not,  however,  make  any  remark 
tell  he  had  spoken  to  Mr,  Howard,  and  then  imparted  to  his 
wife  alone  (not  choosing  to  create  suspicion  in  the  open  hearts 
of  his  children)  that  this  Gilbert  Harding,  though  very  young  at 
the  time,  had  been  one  of  the  principal  actors  in  the  affair  which 
had  caused  Mr.  Howard  to  dismiss  his  pupils,  as  we  related  in 
a  former  page ;  that  his  very  youth,  for  he  could  scarcely  have 
been  more  than  eleven  or  twelve,  and  determined  hardihood,  so 
marked  natural  depravity,  that  Mr.  Howard  had  had  less  hope 
for  him  than  for  any  of  the  others.  This  opinion  had  been 
borne  out  by  his  after  conduct  at  home ;  but  the  affair  had  been 
successfully  hushed  up  by  his  family ;  and  by  immense  interest 
he  had  been  permitted  to  enter  the  navy,  where,  it  was  said,  his 
youthful  errors  had  been  so  redeemed,  and  his  courage  and 
conduct  altogether  had  so  won  him  applause,  that  no  farther 
fears  were  entertained  for  him.  Mr.  Howard  alone  retained 
his  opinion,  that  the  disposition  was  naturally  bad,  and  doubted 
the  internal  response  to  the  seeming  outward  good;  and  he  was 
grieved  and  anxious  beyond  measure,  when  he  heard  tliat  he 
was  not  only  on  board  the  same  ship  as  Edward,  but  already 
his  favorite  companion  and  most  trusted  friend.  His  anxiety, 
of  course,  extended  itself  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hamilton  to  such  a 
degree,  that  at  the  first  moment  they  would  gladly  have  endea- 
vored to  exchange  his  ship ;  but  this  would  have  seemed  very 
strange  to  Sir  Edward  Manly,  wrho  was  one  of  Mr.  Hamilton's 
most  valued  friends.  He  had,  in  fact,  actually  delayed  Edward's 
becoming  a  midshipman  till  Sir  Edward  could  take  him  in  Ais 
own  ship,  and  now  to  place  him  elsewhere  was  really  impossible  ; 
and,  after  all,  though  he  might  be  removed  from  Harding's  in- 
fluence, how  could  his  anxious  guardians  know  all  with  whom 
he  might  be  thrown  ?  They  were  obliged  to  content  themselves 
with  writing  earnestly  and  affectionately  to  Edward  ;  and,  pain- 
ful as  it  was,  to  throw  a  doubt  and  shade  over  such  youthful 
confidence  and  affection,  implored  him  not  to  trust  too  im- 
plicitly in  Harding ;  that  his  character  had  not  always  been  free 
from  stain ;  that  he  (Edward)  wyas  still  so  young  and  so  sus- 
ceptible, he  might  find  that  he  had  imbibed  principles,  and  been 
tempted  to  wrong  almost  unconsciously,  and  suffer  from  its 
effects  when  too  late  to  escape.  They  wrote  as  affectionately 
and  indulgently  as  they  could  —  Mr.  Howard,  as  well  as  his 
aunt  and  uncle ;  but  still  they  felt  that  it  certainly  did  appear 


210  HOME   INFLUENCE. 

cruel  to  warn  a  young,  warm  heart  to  break  off  the  first  friend- 
ship it  had  formed  ;  especially  as  he  beheld  that  friend  approved 
of  by  his  captain,  and  looked  up  to  by  the  crew.  And  that 
Edward's  reply  was  somewhat  cold,  though  he  did  promise  cau- 
tion, and  assure  them  he  had  not  so  forgotten  the  influences 
and  principles  of  Oakwood  as  to  allow  any  one  to  lead  him  into 
error,  did  not  surprise  them.  He  never  referred  to  Harding 
again,  except  sometimes  casually  to  mention  his  companion 
ship,  or  some  act  which  had  won  him  approval;  and  they  really 
hoped  their  letters  had  had  at  least  the  effect  of  putting  him 
on  his  guard.  Sir  Edward  Manly's  own  reply  to  Mr.  Hamil- 
ton's anxious  appeal  to  him,  however,  succeeded  in  quieting 
their  fears  ;  he  assured  them  he  had  seen  nothing  in  Harding*s 
conduct,  since  he  had  been  at  sea,  to  render  him  an  unfit  com- 
panion for  any  boy ;  that  he  had  heard  of  some  boyish  faults, 
but  it  was  rather  hard  he  was  to  suffer  from  them  as  a  man  ; 
and  he  assured  his  friends  that  he  would  keep  a  strict  look-out 
after  young  Fortescue,  and  the  first  appearance  of  a  change  in 
a  character  which,  young  as  he  was,  he  could  not  help  loving, 
should  be  inquired  into,  and  the  friendship  ended  by  sending 
Harding  to  some  other  ship.  So  wrote  Sir  Edward  Manly, 
with  the  fullest  possible  intention  to  perform ;  and  Edward's 
anxious  friends  were  happy,  more  especially  as  letter  after  let- 
ter brought  praises  of  the  young  sailor  from  captain,  officers, 
and  crew,  and  his  own  epistles,  though  brief,  were  affectionate 
and  satisfactory. 

It  was  happy  for  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hamilton,  and  Mr.  Howard 
too,  that  they  were  ignorant  of  the  multiplicity  of  great  and 
little  things  which  could  not  fail  to  engross  the  mind  of  Sir 
Edward  Manly,  who  was  not  only  captain  of  the  Prince  Wil- 
liam, a  gallant  seventy-four,  but  commander  of  the  little  flotilla 
which  accompanied  him,  or  they  could  not  have  rested  so  secure 
Happy  for  them,  too,  during  those  years  of  separation,  that  they 
were  not  perfectly  acquainted  with  Edward's  real  weakness  of 
character,  or  of  the  fearful  extent  of  mischief  which  the  influ 
ences  of  his  first  twelve  years  had  engendered.  Had  he  re 
inained  at  Oakwood  till  nineteen  or  twenty,  it  is  probable  they 
would  have  been  insensibly  conquered,  and  the  impressions  of 
good,  which  he  had  appeared  so  readily  to  receive,  really  taken 
root  and  guided  his  alter  life,  but  eighteen  months  could  not  do 
:!iis,  as  Mrs.  Hamilton  would  have  felt,  had  she  known  all  the 
effect  of  her  sister's  ill-judged  partiality  and  indulgence ;  but 
iliis,  as  we  have  already  mentioned,  was  concealed  from  her  by 
tlit^  bright,  lovable,  winning  qualities,  which  alone  were  uj  per 


HOME  INFLUENCE.  217 

most.  Our  readers,  in  fact,  know  more  of  Edward  (if  they 
have  at  all  thought  of  his  conduct  in  so  frequently  allowing  his 
sister  to  suffer  for  him)  than  his  aunt,  penetrative  as  she  was  ; 
and,  therefore,  in  the  events  we  shall  have  occasion  to  relate, 
we  trust  that  Mrs.  Hamilton  will  not  appear  an  inconsistent 
character,  inasmuch  that  one  in  general  so  successfully  observ- 
ant, should  fail  in  penetration  when  most  needed. 

Edward's  life  at  Oakwood  had  been  so  very  happy,  its  plea- 
sures and  indulgences  so  innocent,  so  numerous,  that  he  did  not 
himself  know  his  liability  to  temptation,  from  the  excessive  love 
of  pleasure  which  his  mother's  indiscreet  indulgence  had  origin- 
ally infused.  The  control  which  his  uncle  and  Mr.  Howard 
exercised  over  him  had  been  so  very  gentle  and  forbearing, 
that  he  had  scarcely  ever  felt  the  inclination  to  exert  self-will, 
and  when  it  so  chanced  that  he  had,  Ellen  had  covered  his 
fault,  or  borne  its  penalty  for  him.  He  thought  he  had  guided 
himself,  when,  in  fact,  he  was  guided ;  but  this  could  no  longer 
be  the  case  when  one  of  the  little  world  which  thronged  a  first- 
rate  man-of-war.  Outward  actions  were,  indeed,  under  control ; 
but  what  captain,  the  most  earnest,  most  able  in  the  world, 
could  look  into  and  guide  the  hearts  of  all  those  committed  to 
his  care  ?  And  almost  the  first  action  of  Edward's  unbiased 
will  was  indignantly  to  tear  into  shreds,  and  scatter  to  the  winds 
and  the  waves,  those  affectionate  and  warning  letters,  and  cling 
the  more  closely  to,  rest  the  more  confidingly  on,  Harding,  for 
the  wrong  that  he  thought  he  had  done  him,  by  allowing  his  eye 
even  to  rest  for  a  moment  on  such  base,  unfounded  aspersions 
on  his  name. 

When  Mrs.  Hamilton  told  Ellen  that  her  letters  to  her 
brother,  and  his  to  her,  should  never  be  subjected  to  any  scru- 
tiny but  their  own,  she  acted  on  a  principle  which  many  parents 
and  guardians  would  consider  as  high-flown  and  romantic,  and 
which  she  herself  had  most  painful  reason  to  regret  —  the 
effects,  at  least,  but  not  the  principle  itself,  for  that  was  based 
on  too  refined  a  feeling  to  waver,  even  though  she  suffered  from 
it.  She  could  not  bear,  nor  could  her  husband,  the  system 
which  prevailed  in  some  families  of  their  acquaintance,  that 
their  children  could  neither  receive  nor  Avrite  letters  to  each 
other,  or  their  intimate  friends,  without  being  shown  to  their 
seniors.  As  for  opening  and  reading  a  letter  directed  to  one 
of  them,  before  its  possessor  saw  it,  as  they  had  seen  done,  it 
was,  in  their  estimation,  as  much  dishonor  and  as  riean,  as  if 
such  a  thing  had  been  done  to  an  adult.  Perfect  confidence 
in  their  home  they  had  indeed  instilled,  and  that  confidence 


218  HOME   INFLUENCE. 

was  never  withheld.  There  was  a  degree  of  suspicion  attached 
to  a  demand  always  to  see  what  a  child  had  written  or  received, 
from  which  Mrs.  Hamilton's  pure  mind  actually  shrunk  in 
loathing.  In  the  many  months  the  Grahame  family  passed  in 
London,  Annie  and  Caroline  corresponded  without  the  least 
restraint ;  no  doubt  many  would  pronounce  Mrs.  Hamilton 
very  unwise,  knowing  Annie  so  well,  and  trembling  for  Caro- 
line as  she  did ;  but,  as  she  told  Miss  Harcourt,  she  had  some 
actions  peculiar  to  herself,  (they  always  had  the  sanction  and 
sympathy  of  her  husband,  however,)  and  this  was  one  of  them 
She  was  always  pleased  and  interested  in  all  that  her  children 
read  to  her,  either  from  their  own  epistles  or  those  they  re- 
ceived, and  if  they  wished  it,  read  them  herself,  but  she  never 
asked  to  do  so,  and  the  consequence  was,  that  the  most  perfect 
confidence  was  given. 

When  Ellen  and  Edward  parted,  they  were  both  so  young, 
that  Mr.  Hamilton  had  hesitated  as  to  whether  his  wife  was 
quite  justified  in  the  perfect  trust  with  which  she  treated  them, 
and  whether  it  would  not  be  wiser  to  overlook  their  correspond- 
ence ;  but  Mrs.  Hamilton  so  argued  that  their  very  youth  was 
their  safeguard,  that  they  were  all  in  all  to  each  other,  and  as 
such  she  wished  them  to  feel  they  were  bound  by  even  a  closer 
and  a  fonder  tie  than  that  of  brother  and  sister  under  other  cir- 
cumstances, so  won  over  her  husband  that  he  yielded ;  and  from 
the  long  extracts  that  Ellen  would  read  of  Edward's  letters  to 
the  family  in  general,  and  of  her  own  to  her  aunt,  he  was  quite 
satisfied  as  to  the  wisdom  of  his  wife's  judgment. 

For  full  a  year  after  Edward's  departure,  Ellen's  conduct 
and  general  improvement  had  given  her  aunt  nothing  but  plea- 
sure ;  even  Miss  Harcourt's  and  Caroline's  prejudice  was  nearly 
removed,  though,  at  times,  the  fancy  would  steal  over  both  that 
she  was  not  exactly  what  she  seemed,  and  that  that  which  was 
hidden  was  not  exactly  that  which  Mrs.  Hamilton  believed  it; 
and  this  fancy,  strengthened  by  a  certain  indefinable  yet  felt 
change  in  Ellen,  commencing  about  thirteen  months  after  she 
had  parted  from  her  brother.  Mrs.  Hamilton  herself,  for  some 
time  strove  against  belief,  but  at  length  she  could  no  longer 
conceal  from  herself  that  Ellen  was  becoming  reserved  again, 
ijid  fearful,  at  times  almost  shrinking,  and  sad,  as  in  her  child- 
hood. The  openness,  and  almost  light-heartedness,  which  for  one 
brief  year  had  so  characterized  her,  seemed  completely  but  so 
insensibly  to  have  gone,  that  Mrs.  Hamilton  could  not  satisfy 
herself  as  to  the  time  of  the  commencement,  or  reason  of  the 
change  Her  temper,  too,  became  fitful,  and  altogetlr  r  lie? 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  219 

tumt's  anxiety  and  bewilderment  as  to  her  real  character  re- 
turned in  full  force.  Once,  when  gently  questioned  as  to  why 
her  .emper  was  so  altered,  Ellen  confessed  with  tears,  that  she 
kne^v  it  was,  but  she  could  not  help  it,  she  believed  she  was 
not  well ;  and  Mrs.  Hamilton  called  in  Mr.  Maitland,  who  said 
that  she  really  was  in  a  highly  nervous  state,  and  required  care 
and  quietness,  and  the  less  notice  that  was  taken  of  her  mo- 
mentary irritability  or  depression  the  better.  Little  did  the 
worthy  man  imagine  how  his  young  patent  blessed  him  for 
these  words ;  giving  a  reason  for  and  so  allowing  the  trepidation 
which  paled  her  cheek,  parched  her  lips,  and  made  her  hand 
so  tremble,  when  she  received  a  letter  from  her  brother,  to  pass 
unnoticed. 

But  change  in  manner  was  not  all ;  almost  every  second  or 
third  month  Ellen's  allowance  of  pocket-money  (which  was  un- 
usually liberal,  as  Mrs.  Hamilton  wished  to  accustom  her  girls, 
from  an  early  age,  to  purchase  some  few  articles  of  dress  for 
themselves,  and  so  learn  the  value  of  money)  most  strangely 
and  mysteriously  disappeared.  Ellen  either  could  not  or  would 
not  give  any  account  of  it ;  and,  of  course,  it  not  only  exposed 
her  to  her  aunt's  most  serious  displeasure,  but  inexpressibly 
heightened  not  only  Mrs.  Hamilton's  bewilderment  and  anxiety, 
but  Miss  Harcourt's  and  Caroline's  unspoken  prejudice.  From 
the  time  of  Edward's  departure,  Ellen  had  never  been  dis- 
covered in  or  suspected  of  either  uttering  or  acting  an  untruth ; 
but  her  silence,  her  apparent  determined  ignorance  of,  or  reso- 
lution not  to  confess  the  cause  of  the  incomprehensible  disap- 
pearance of  her  allowance,  naturally  compelled  Mrs.  Hamilton 
to  revert  to  the  propensity  of  her  childhood,  and  fear  that  truth- 
fulness was  again  deserting  her.  Her  displeasure  lasting,  of 
course,  the  longer  from  Ellen's  want  of  openness,  and  the  air 
of  what  almost  appeared  to  her  anxious  yet  still  affectionate 
aunt  like  sullen  defiance  (in  reality,  it  was  almost  despair,) 
when  spoken  to,  caused  a  painful  degree  of  estrangement  be- 
tween them,  always,  however,  giving  place  to  Mrs.  Hamilton's 
usual  caressing  manner,  the  moment  Ellen  seemed  really  re- 
pentant, and  her  month's  expenditure  could  be  properly  ex- 
plained. 

For  six  or  eight  months  before  the  day  on  which  we  recom- 
mence our  narrative,  there  had  been,  however,  nothing  to  com- 
plain of  in  Ellen,  except  still  that  unnatural  reserve  and  fre- 
quent depression,  as  if  dreading  something  she  knew  net  what, 
which,  as  every  other  part  of  her  conduct  was  satisfactor  y,  Mrs. 
Hamilton  tried  to  comfort  herself  was  physical  alone.  IS  o  refer- 


220  HOME   INFLUENCE. 

ence  to  the  past  was  ever  made:  her  manner  to  her  niece 
became  the  same  as  usual ;  but  she  could  not  feel  secure  as  to 
her  character,  and,  what  was  most  painful,  there  were  times 
when  she  was  compelled  to  doubt  even  Ellen's  affection  for 
herself,  a  thing  she  had  never  had  the  slightest  cause  to  do  even 
when  she  was  a  little  inanimate  child. 

But  very  few  changes  had  taken  place  in  the  Greville  and 
Grahame  families.  Mrs.  Greville's  trial  continued  in  unmiti- 
gated, if  not  hightened  bitterness :  the  example,  the  companion- 
ship of  his  father  had  appeared  to  have  blighted  every  good 
seed  which  she  had  strenuously  endeavored  to  plant  in  the 
bosom  of  her  son.  At  sixteen  he  was  already  an  accomplished 
man  of  the  world,  in  its  most  painful  sense :  he  had  his  own 
companions,  his  own  haunts  ;  scarcely  ever  visiting  his  home, 
for  a  reason  which,  could  his  poor  mother  have  known  it,  would 
have  given  her  some  slight  gleam  of  comfort.  He  could  not 
associate  either  with  her  or  his  sister,  without  feeling  a  sort  of 
loathing  of  himself,  a  longing  to  be  to  them  as  Percy  and  Her- 
bert Hamilton  were  at  Oakwood ;  and  not  having  the  moral 
courage  sufficient  to  break  from  the  control  of  his  father,  and 
tLe  exciting  pleasures  in  which  that  control  initiated  him,  he 
shrunk  more  and  more  from  the  only  spot  in  which  better  feel- 
mgs  were  so  awakened  within  him  as  to  give  him  pain.  To 
deaden  this  unacknowledged  remorse,  his  manner  was  rude 
and  unfeeling,  so  that  his  very  visits,  though  inexpressibly 
longed  for  by  his  mother,  brought  only  increase  of  grief. 

Mrs.  Greville  seemed  herself  so  inured  to  suffering,  that  she 
bore  up  against  it  without  any  visible  failing  of  health ;  strug- 
gling against  its  enervating  effects,  more,  perhaps,  than  she 
was  aware  of  herself,  for  the  sake  of  one  treasure  still  granted 
her  —  her  own  almost  angel  Mary,  —  who,  she  knew,  without 
her  love  and  constant  cheerfulness,  must  sink  beneatli  such  a 
constant  aggravated  trial.  Yet  that  very  love  brought  increase 
of  anxiety  from  more  than  one  cause.  As  yet  there  was  no 
change  in  their  manner  of  living,  but  Mrs.  Greville  knew  that, 
from  the  excesses  of  her  husband  and  son,  there  very  soon 
must  be.  Ruin,  poverty,  all  its  fearful  ills,  stood  before  her  in 
perspective,  and  how  could  Mary's  fragile  frame  and  gentle 
spirit  bear  up  against  them  ?  Again  and  again  the  question 
pressed  upon  her — Did  Herbert  Hamilton  indeed  love  her 
child,  as  every  passing  year  seemed  to  confirm  ?  and  if  he  did, 
would  —  could  his  parents  consent  to  his  union  with  the  child 
of  such  a  father,  the  sister  of  such  a  brother  ?  There  wen 
always  long  messages  to  Mary  in  Herbert's  letters  to  his  mother 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  2^1 

which  Mrs.  Hamilton  not  only  delivered  herself,  but  sometimes 
even  put  the  whole  letter  into  Mary's  hand,  and  at  last  laugh- 
ingly said,  she  really  thought  they  had  much  better  write  tc 
each  other,  as  then  she  should  chance  to  get  a  letter  all  to  her- 
self, not  merely  be  the  medium  of  a  communication  between 
them ;  and  Mary,  though  she  did  slightly  blush,  which  she  was 
in  the  habit  of  doing  for  scarcely  any  thing,  seemed  to  think  it 
so  perfectly  natural,  that  she  merely  said,  if  Herbert  had  time 
to  write  to  her,  she  should  like  it  very  much,  and  would  cer- 
tainly answer  him. 

"  My  dear  Einmeline,  what  are  you  about  ?  "  was  Mrs.  Gre- 
ville's  anxious  appeal,  the  moment  they  were  alone. 

"  Giving  pleasure  to  two  young  folks,  of  whom  I  am  most 
excessively  fond,"  was  Mrs.  Hamilton's  laughing  reply.  "  Don't 
look  so  terrified,  my  dear  Jessie.  They  love  each  other  as  boy 
and  girl  now,  and  if  the  love  should  deepen  into  that  of  man 
and  woman,  Avhy,  all  I  can  say  is  —  I  would  rather  have  your 
Mary  for  my  Herbert  than  any  one  else  I  know." 

"  She  is  not  only  my  Mary ! "  answered  the  poor  mother, 
with  such  a  quivering  of  eye  and  lip,  that  it  checked  Mrs.  Ha- 
milton's joyousness  at  once. 

"  She  is  your  Mary,  in  all  that  can  make  such  a  character  as 
my  Herbert  happy,"  was  her  instant  reply,  with  a  pressure  of 
Mrs.  Greville's  hand,  that  said  far  more  than  her  words.  "  I 
am  not  one  of  those  who  like  to  make  matches  in  anticipation, 
for  man's  best  laid  schemes  are  so  often  overthrown  by  the 
most  trifling  but  unforeseen  chances,  that  display  a  much  wiser 
providence  than  our  greatest  wisdom,  that  I  should  consider  it 
almost  sinful  so  to  do ;  but  never  let  a  thought  of  suffering 
cross  your  mind,  dearest  Jessie,  as  to  what  my  husband's  and 
my  own  answer  will  be,  if  our  Herbert  should  indeed  ever  wish 
to  choose  your  Mary  as  his  wife,  and,  certainly  a  most  important 
addition,  should  she  wish  it  too.  Our  best  plan  now  is  to  let 
them  follow  their  own  inclinations  regarding  correspondence. 
We  can,  I  am  sure,  trust  them  both,  for  what  can  be  a  greater 
proof  of  my  "boy's  perfect  confidence  in  my  sympathy  wi*h  his 
feelings  toward  her,  than  to  make  me  his  messenger,  as  he  has 
done,  and  as  he,  no  doubt,  will  continue  to  do,  even  if  he  write. 
I  have  not  the  smallest  doubt,  that  he  will  inclose  me  his  letter* 
to  her  unsealed,  and  I  rather  think  your  Mary  will  send  n  e 
her  replies  in  the  same  unreserved  manner." 

And  she  was  right,     Nor,  we  think,'  did  the  purity  and  inno 
cence  of  those  letters,  so  intensely  interesting  to   each  other 
give  pl;icc   to  any  other  style,  even  when  they  chanced  to  db 
11 

I 


222  HOME   INFLUENCE. 

co  per  that  Mrs.  Hamilton  was  utterly  ignorant  of  tLeir  con 
tents,  except  that  which  they  chose  to  read  or  impart  to  her 
themselves. 

But  even  this  assurance  on  the  part  of  one  so  loved  and 
trusted  as  Mrs.  Hamilton,  could  not  entirely  remove  Mrs.  Gre- 
ville's  vague  anticipations  of  evil.  Mr.  Greville  always  shun- 
ned, and  declared  he  hated  the  Hamilton  family ;  but  as  he 
seemed  to  entertain  the  same  feeling  toward  herself  and  her 
poor  Mary,  she  tried  to  comfort  herself  by  the  idea  that  he 
would  never  trouble  his  head  about  his  daughter ;  or  be  glad 
to  get  her  out  of  his  way,  especially  if  she  married  well.  Still 
anxiety  for  the  future  would  press  upon  her ;  only  calmed  by 
her  firm,  unchanging  faith  in  that  gracious,  ever-watchful  Pro- 
vidence, who,  if  in  spite  of  her  heavy  troubles  she  still  tried  to 
trust  and  serve,  would  order  all  things  for  the  best ;  and  it  was 
this,  this  faith  alone,  which  so  supported  her,  as  to  permit  her 
to  make  her  child's  home  and  heart  almost  as  happy  as  if  her 
path  had  all  been  smooth. 

In  the  Grahame  family  a  change  had  taken  place,  in  Master 
Cecil's  being  sent  to  Eton  some  time  before  his  father  had  in- 
tended ;  but  so  many  cases  of  Lady  Helen's  faulty  indolence 
and  ruinous  indulgence  had  come  under  his  notice,  that  he  felt 
to  remove  the  boy  from  her  influence  must  be  accomplished  at 
any  cost.  Cecil  was  quite  delighted,  but  his  mother  was  so  in- 
dignant, that  she  overcame  her  habitual  awe  of  her  husband 
sufficiently  to  vow  that  she  would  not  live  so  far  from  her  son, 
and  if  he  must  go  to  school,  she  must  leave  Moorlands.  Gra- 
hame, with  equal  positiveness,  declared  that  he  would  not  give 
up  a  home  endeared  to  him  so  long,  nor  so  entirely  break  off 
his  companionship  with  his  dearest  friends.  A  very  stormy 
dialogue  of  course  took  place,  and  ended  by  both  parties  being 
more  resolved  to  entertain  their  own  opinion.  The  interposi- 
tion of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hamilton,  however,  obtained  some  con- 
cession on  Grahame's  part,  and  he  promised  that  if  Lady 
Helen  would  make  Moorlands  her  home  from  the  middle  of 
July  till  the  end  of  October,  November  and  December  should 
be  spent  in  the  vicinity  of  Eton,  and  she  should  then  have  six 
months  for  London  and  its  attractions.  This  concession  brought 
back  all  Lady  Helen's  smiles,  and  charmed  Annie,  though  it 
was  a  source  of  real  regret  to  Caroline,  who  could  not  help 
feeling  a  little  pained  at  her  friend's  small  concern  at  this  long 
separation  from  her.  But  still  she  loved  her  ;  and,  as  Anriiu 
wrote  frequently,  and  when  she  was  at  Moorlands  n  jver  tired 
»f  her  society,  (the  eight  morths  of  absence  giving  her  so  much 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  22S 

interesting  matler  to  impart,)  Caroline  was  not  only  satisfied, 
but  insensible  to  the  utter  want  of  sympathy  which  Annie 
manifested  in  her  pursuits,  her  pleasures.  Mrs.  Hamilton  often 
wished  that  Caroline  had  chosen  one  more  deserving  of  her 
friendship,  but  she  trusted  that  time  and  experience  would 
teach  her  Annie's  real  character,  and  so  did  not  feel  any  anxiety 
on  that  score. 

There  was  only  one  member  in  Grahame's  family,  that  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Hamilton  hoped  might  bring  joy  and  comfort  to  their 
friend,  and  that  was  his  little  Lilla.  She  was  five  years  younger 
than  Annie,  and  being  much  less  attractive,  seemed  almost  for- 
gotten, and  so  was  spared  the  dangerous  ordeal  of  flattery  and 
indulgence  to  which  Annie  had  been  subject;  and  from  being 
more  violent  and  less  agreeable  than  Cecil,  was  not  so  frequent- 
ly spoiled  by  her  mother.  They  feared  the  poor  child  would 
have  much  to  endure  from  her  own  temper,  Annie's  overbear- 
ing insolence,  and  Lady  Helen's  culpable  indolence  ;  but  Mrs. 
Hamilton  hoped,  when  she  resided  part  of  the  year  in  London, 
as  she  felt  she  would  very  soon  be  called  upon  to  do,  to  be  en- 
abled to  rouse  Grahame's  attention  toward  his  youngest  child, 
and  prevail  on  him  to  relax  in  his  sternness  toward  her  ;  and 
by  taking  notice  of  her  continually  herself,  instil  such  feelings 
in  her  as  would  attract  her  toward  her  father,  and  so  increase 
the  happiness  of  both.  Every  visit  of  the  Grahame  family  to 
Moorlands,  she  resolved  to  study  Lilla  well,  and  try  all  she 
could  to  make  one  in  reality  so  estimable,  as  her  husband's 
friend,  happy,  in  one  child  at  least. 

It  had  been  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hamilton's  intention  to  go  to  Lon- 
don the  January  after  Caroline  was  seventeen,  and  give  her  the 
advantage  of  finishing  masters,  and  a  partial  introduction  to  the 
world,  by  having  the  best  society  at  home,  before  she  launched 
into  all  its  exciting  pleasures ;  to  return  to  Oakwood  in  July  or 
August,  and  revisit  the  metropolis  the  following  February  or 
March,  for  the  season,  when,  as  she  would  be  eighteen  and  a 
half,  she  should  be  fully  introduced.  Caroline,  of  course,  antici- 
pated this  period  with  intense  delight.  She  was  quite  satisfied 
that  in  her  first  visit  she  should  study  as  much  as,  if  not  more 
than  before ;  and  content  and  thankful  that  her  mother  would 
allow  her  to  enter  so  far  into  society,  as  always  to  join  dinner 
or  evening  parties  at  home,  and  go  to  some  of  her  most  intimate 
friends,  when  their  coteries  were  very  small  and  friendly ;  and 
another  eagerly  anticipated  delight,  sometimes  go  to  the  opera 
And  the  best  concerts;  and  visit  all  the  galleries  of  art. 

To  poor  Emruelinc  these  anticipations  gave  no  pleasure  what- 


224  HOME   INFLUENCE. 

ever;  she  Lated  the  very  thought  of  leaving  Oakwood,  firmly 
convinced  that  not  the  most  highly  intellectual,  nor  the  most 
delightful  social  enjoyment  in  London,  could  equal  the  pure 
delights  of  Devonshire  and  home.  Ellen  seemed  too  engrossed 
with  her  own  thoughts  to  evince  a  feeling  either  way,  much  to 
her  aunt's  regret,  as  her  constant  quietness  and  seeming  deter 
mined  repression  of  her  sentiments,  rendered  her  character  still 
more  difficult  to  read. 

But  a  heavy  disappointment  was  preparing  for  Caroline,  in 
the  compelled  postponement  of  her  bright  anticipations ;  to  un- 
derstand the  causes  of  which,  we  must  glance  back  on  an  event 
in  the  Hamilton  family,  which  had  occurred  some  years  before 
its  present  head  was  born.  In  the  early  part  of  the  reign  of 
George  the  Third,  Arthur  Hamilton,  the  grandfather  of  our 
friend  of  the  same  name,  had  been  sent  by  government  to  the 
coast  of  Denmark :  his  estimable  character  so  won  him  the  re- 
gard of  the  reigning  sovereign,  Christian  VII.,  that,  on  his  de- 
parture, the  royal  wish  was  expressed  for  his  speedy  return. 
On  his  voyage  home,  he  was  wrecked  off  the  Feroe  Islands,  and 
rescued  from  danger  and  death  by  the  strenuous  exertions  of 
the  islanders,  who  entertained  him  and  the  crew  with  the  utmost 
hospitality,  till  their  ship  was  again  seaworthy.  During  his  in- 
voluntary detention,  Mr.  Hamilton  became  deeply  interested  in 
the  Feroese,  a  people  living,  it  seemed,  in  the  midst  of  desola- 
tion, a  cluster  of  small  rocky  islets,  divided  by  some  hundred 
miles  of  stormy  sea  from  their  fellows.  He  made  the  tour  of 
the  islands,  and  found  almost  all  their  inhabitants  possessing  the 
same  characteristics  as  those  of  Samboe,  the  island  off  which  he 
had  been  wrecked ;  kind,  hospitable,  honest,  temperate,  inclined 
to  natural  piety,  but  so  perfectly  indifferent  to  the  various  pri- 
vations and  annoyances  of  their  lot,  as  to  make  no  effort  toward 
removing  them.  Travelling  either  by  land  or  sea  was  so  dan- 
gerous and  difficult,  that  in  some  parishes  the  clergyman  could 
only  perform  service  twice  a  year,*  or  once  every. one,  two,  or 
three  months.  The  islands  in  which  the  clergyman  resided 
were,  Mr.  Hamilton  observed,  in  a  much  higher  state  of  civili- 
zation and  morality  than  Samboe  and  some  others,  and  an 
earnest  desire  took  possession  of  him,  to  do  some  real  service 
for  those  who  had  saved  him  from  danger  and  treated  him  sc 
hospitably.  He  very  speedly  acquired  their  language,  which 
gave  him  still  more  influence.  He  found,  also,  that  if  their 


*  For  this  account  of  Feroe  and  the  Feroese  the  author  is  indebtej   to 
'  History  ct'the  Islands,  by  a  Resident." 


HOME  INFLUENCE.  225 

ancien:  customs  and  traditions  were  left  undisturbed,  they  were 
verj  easily  led,  and  this  discovery  strengthened  his  purpcee.  — 
His  departure  was  universally  regretted ;  and  his  promise  to 
retu  TI  imagined  too  great  a  privilege  to  be  believed. 

As  soon  as  his  political  duties  in  England  permitted,  Mr 
Hamilton  revisited  Denmark,  and  was  received  with  such  cor- 
diality as  to  encourage  him  to  make  his  petition  for  the  improve- 
ment of  his  majesty's  poor  subjects  of  Samboe.  It  was  granted 
directly;  the  little  island  so  far  made  over  to  him,  that  he  was 
at  liberty  to  introduce  and  erect  whatever  he  pleased  within  it ; 
and  Mr.  Hamilton,  all  eagerness  for  the  perfection  of  his  plans, 
returned  with  speed  to  England ;  obtained  the  valuable  aid  of 
a  poor  though  worthy  clergyman,  who,  with  his  wife,  volunta- 
rily offered  to  make  Samboe  their  home,  and  assist  their  bene- 
factor (for  such  Mr.  Hamilton  had  long  been)  to  the  very  best 
of  their  ability.  A  strong-built  vessel  was  easily  procured,  and 
a  favorable  voyage  soon  transported  them  to  Feroe.  The  de- 
light of  the  Samboese  at  beholding  their  former  guest  again, 
prepossessed  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Wilson  in  their  favor,  and  Mr.  Ha- 
milton, before  his  six  months'  sojourn  with  them  was  over,  be- 
held the  island  in  a  fair  way  of  religious  and  moral  improve- 
ment —  Schools  were  formed  and  masters  appointed  —  nouses 
were  made  more  comfortable  —  women  and  young  children 
more  cared  for,  and  employments  found,  and  sufficiently  reward- 
ed to  encourage  persevering  labor.  Three  or  four  times  Mr. 
Hamilton  visited  the  island  again  before  his  death,  and  each 
time  he  had  more  reason  to  be  satisfied  with  the  effect  of  his 
schemes.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Wilson  were  perfectly  happy.  Their 
son  was  united  to  the  pretty  and  excellent  daughter  of  one  of 
the  Danish  clergymen,  and  a  young  family  was  blooming  round 
them,  so  that  there  seemed  a  fair  promise  of  the  ministry  of 
Samboe  continuing  long  in  charge  of  the  same  family. 

Mr.  Hamilton,  on  his  death-bed,  exacted  a  promise  from  his 
son  that  he  would  not  permit  the  island  to  fall  back  into  its  old 
habits  ;  but  that,  if  required,  he  would  visit  it  himself.  The 
visit  was  not  required,  but  Percy  Hamilton,  (the  father  of  the 
present  possessor  of  Oakwood,)  from  respect  to  his  father's 
memory,  made  a  voyage  to  Samboe  on  the  demise  of  the  elder 
Wilson.  He  found  every  thing  flourishing  and  happy ;  Fie- 
deric  Wilson  had  been  received  as  their  pastor  and  head,  with 
as  much  joy  as  their  regret  for  his  father  would  permit ;  and 
Mr.  Hamilton  returned  to  England,  satisfied  with  himself,  and 
inexpressibly  touched  by  the  veneration  still  entertained  in  that 
distant  island  for  his  father.  The  same  promise  was  demanded 


226  HOME   INFLUENCE. 

by  him  from  his  son,  and  Arthur  Hamilton  had  visited  Feroe 
directly  after  the  loss  of  his  parent,  and  before  his  engagement 
with  Miss  Manvers.  He  found  it  in  the  same  satisfactory  con- 
dition as  his  predecessors  had  done,  and  the  letters  he  regularly 
received  confirmed  it ;  but  for  the  last  year  and  a  half  he  had 
received  PO  tidings.  Frederic  Wilson,  he  knew,  was  dead,  but 
his  last  account  had  told  him  his  eldest  son,  who  had  been  edu- 
cated in  Denmark,  had  been  gladly  received  by  the  simple  peo- 
ple, and  promised  fair  to  be  as  much  loved,  and  do  the  same 
good  as  his  father  and  grandfather.  The  silence  then  was  in- 
comprehensible, and  Mr.  Hamilton  had  resolved,  if  another 
year  passed  without  intelligence,  it  would  be  a  positive  duty  to 
it  himself. 


CHAPTER    II. 

A    LETTER,    AND    ITS    CONSEQUENCES. 

IT  was  the  seventh  of  June,  and  one  of  those  glorious  morn- 
ings, when  nature  looks  lovelier  than  ever.  The  windows  of 
the  breakfast-room  were  thrown  widely  open,  and  never  did  the 
superb  trees  of  Oakwood  Park  look  richer  or  display  a  greater 
variety  of  green.  The  flower-garden,  on  part  of  which  the 
breakfast-room  opened,  was  actually  dazzling  with  its  profusion, 
of  brilliant  flowers,  on  which  the  sun  looked  down  so  gloriously  ; 
a  smooth  lawn,  whose  green  was  a  perfect  emerald,  stretched 
down  from  the  parterre,  till  it  was  lost  in  woody  openings, 
which  disclosed  the  winding  river,  that,  lying  as  a  lake  on  one 
side,  appeared  to  sweep  round  some  exquisite  scenery  on  the 
opposite  side,  and  form  another  lake,  about  a  mile  further.  It 
was  Emmeliue's  favorite  view,  and  she  always  declared,  that 
it  so  varied  its  aspects  of  loveliness,  she  was  sure  it  never 
looked  two  mornings  exactly  alike,  and  so  long  would  she 
stand  and  admire,  that  her  mother  often  threatened  to  send 
her  her  breakfast  in  her  own  room,  where  the  view,  though 
picturesque,  would  not  so  completely  turn  her  attention  from 
the  dull  realities  of  life.  There  were  some  letters  on  the  table 
ihis  morning,  so  she  had  a  longer  time  to  drink  in  poetry  than 
usual. 

"  Who  can  offer  Ellen  a  more  precious  birthday -gift  than 
mine  ?  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Hamilton,  playfully  holding  up  a  letter 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  227 

in  her  niece  entered.  "  I  wonder  if  Edward  remembered  how 
near  his  sister  was  to  fifteen,  and  so  wrote  on  the  chance  of 
your  receiving  it  on  the  day  itself?  " 

"  Why,  Ellen,  what  a  queer  effect  pleasure  has  on  you  !  I 
always  notice  you  turn  quite  pale  whenever  Edward's  letters 
are  given  to  you,"  interposed  Einmeline,  looking  at  her  cousin, 
and  laughing.  "  I  am  sure,  the  very  hurry  I  am  in  to  open 
Percy's  and  Herbert's,  must  give  me  a  color,  and  you  are  as 
deliberate  as  if  you  did  not  care  about  it,  I  do  wish  you  would 
not  be  so  cold  and  quiet," 

"  One  giddy  brain  is  quite  enough  in  a  house,"  rejoined  her 
father,  in  the  same  mirthful  tone,  and  looking  up  from  his  letter, 
lie  called  Ellen  to  him,  and  kissed  her.  "  I  forgot  the  day  of 
the  month,  my  little  girl,  but  I  am  not  too  late,  I  hope,  to  say, 
God  bless  you,  and  wish  that  every  year  may  pass  more  hap- 
pily, more  usefully,  and  more  prepared  for  eternity  than  the 
last !  " 

"  I  do  not  think  you  have  forgotten  it,  my  dear  uncle,"  re- 
plied Ellen,  gratefully  (she  had  not  yet  opened  her  brother's 
letter)  ;  "  for  my  aunt  says,  I  am  to  thank  you  as  well  as  her 
for  this  beautiful  birth-day  gift,"  and  she  displayed  an  elegant 
little  gold  watch;  "indeed,  I  do  not  know  how  to  thank  you 
for  all  your  kindness  ! "  she  added,  so  earnestly  that  tears  came 
to  her  eyes. 

"  I  will  say,  as  I  have  heard  your  aunt  often  say  —  by  trying 
to  be  a  little  more  lively  and  unreserved,  my  dear  Ellen ;  that 
svoiild  prove  our  kindness  and  affection  made  you  happy,  better 
than  any  thing;  but  I  am  not  going  to  lecture  you  on  your 
birthday,  and  with  a  letter  from  Edward  in  your  hand,"  he 
continued  smiling.  "Open  it,  my  dear,  I  want  to  know  its 
date  ;  I  rather  think  my  friend  Manly*s  must  be  written  later." 

"  Nothing  in  it  for  me,  Ellen  ?  "  asked  her  aunt.  "  What  a 
lazy  boy  he  has  grown  !  " 

"An  inclosure  for  you,  Ellen  ;  why,  that  is  as  queer  as  your 
oaleness  !  "  said  Emmeline. 

"  Do  let  your  cousin's  paleness  alone,"  interposed  Mrs.  Ha- 
milton, gayly.  "I  really  cannot  perceive  she  has  any  less 
color  than  usual,  and  as  for  the  inclosure,  Edward  often  has 
something  to  add  at  the  last  moment,  and  no  room  to  insert  it, 
and  so  there  is  nothing  remarkable  in  his  using  another  half 
iheet." 

"  Emmeline  always  creates  wonders  out  of  shadows,"  said 
Caroline,  dryly. 

"And  you  never  see  any  thing  but  dull,  coarse,  heavy  reali 


2^8  HOME   INFLUENCE. 

ties,"  laughed  her  sister  in  reply.  "  Come,  Ellen,  tell  us  some- 
thh  g  of  this  idle  brother  of  yours,  who  promised  to  write  to 
me  every  packet,  and  never  does." 

Ellen  read  nearly  the  whole  letter  aloud,  and  it  was  unusually 
entertaining,  for  the  ship  had  been  cruising  about  the  last 
month,  and  Edward  described  the  various  scenes  and  new  places 
he  had  visited  more  lengthily  than  usual.  He  anticipated  with 
great  glee  an  engagement  with  some  desperate  pirates,  whoso 
track  they  were  pursuing. 

"  Does  he  mention  an  engagement  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Hamilton. 

"  No,  uncle ;  he  concludes  quite  abruptly,  saying  they  have 
just  piped  all  hands,  and  he  must  be  off.  The  direction  does 
not  seem  his  writing." 

"  Nor  is  it ;  Sir  Edward  sealed,  directed,  and  put  it  up  for 
him  in  his  own  to  me.  They  had  piped  all  hands,  as  he  calls 
it,  because  the  pirate  ship  was  in  sight,  and  an  engagement  did 
take  place." 

"And  Edward  —  oh,  uncle,  is  he  hurt  ?  I  am  sure,  he  is,  by 
your  face,"  exclaimed  Ellen,  trembling ;  and  all  the  little  circle 
looked  alarmed. 

"  Then  my  face  is  a  deceiver,"  replied  Mr.  Hamilton,  quite 
cheerfully.  "  He  only  received  a  slight  flesh  wound  in  his 
right  arm,  which  prevented  his  using  it  to  complete  his  letter, 
and  I  rather  think  he  would  have  willingly  been  hurt  still  more, 
to  receive  such  praises  as  Sir  Edward  lavishes  on  him.  Listen 
to  what  he  says  — '  Not  a  boy  or  man  on  board  distinguished 
himself  more  than  your  nephew :  in  fact,  I  arn  only  astonished 
he  escaped  as  he  did,  for  those  pirates  are  desperate  fighters, 
and  when  we  boarded  them,  Fortescue  was  in  the  midst  of  them, 
lighting  like  a  young  lion.  Courage  and  gallantry  are  such 
dazzling  qualities  in  a  young  lad,  that  we  think  more  of  them 
perhaps  than  we  ought,  but  I  cannot  say  too  much  for  your 
nephew ;  I  have  not  a  lad  more  devoted  to  his  duty.  I  was 
glad  to  show  him  my  approbation  by  giving  him  some  days' 
liberty,  when  we  were  off  New  York ;  but  1  have  since  told 
him  the  air  of  land  certainly  did  not  agree  with  him,  for  he  has 
looked  paler  and  thinner  ever  since.  He  is  growing  very  fast ; 
and  altogether,  if  I  have  occasion  to  send  another  prize  schooner 
home,  I  think  it  not  improbable  I  shall  nominate  him  as  one 
of  the  officers,  that  he  may  have  the  benefit  of  the  healtful 
breezes  of  Old  England,  to  bring  back  his  full  strength.'  There, 
Ellen,  I  think  that  is  a  still  better  birthday-present  than  p-:en 
Edward's  own  letter  I  am  as  proud  of  my  nephew  a«  S'u 
Kdward  is." 


HOME  INFLUENCE.  229 

"And  do  you  think  he- really  will  come  ?"  asked  Ellen,  try- 
ing to  conquer  her  emotion. . 

"  We  will  hope  it,  dearest,"  replied  her  aunt,  kindly.  '  Bnt 
do  not  think  too  much  about  it,  even  if  Sir  Edward  be  not  able 
to  do  as  he  says.  His  own  ship  will  be  coming  home  in  a  year 
or  two,  and  you  owned  to  me  yourself  this  morning,  it  did  not 
seem  as  long  as  it  really  is,  since  our  dear  sailor  left  us  ;  E-J  the 
remaining  time  will  soon  pass.  Finish  your  breakfast,  and  go, 
love,  and  enjoy  his  letter  again  to  yourself." 

And  Ellen  gladly  obeyed  ;  for  it  was  from  no  imaginary  cause 
that  the  receipt  of  Edward's  letters  so  often  paled  her  cheek,  and 
parched  her  lip  with  terror.  She  knew  that  concerning  him 
which  none  else  but  Harding  did ;  and  even  when  those  letters 
imparted  nothing  but  that  which  she  could  read  to  her  family, 
the  dread  was  quite  enough  to  banish  any  thing  like  the  elastic 
happiness,  natural  to  her  age,  and  called  for  by  the  kindness 
of  those  she  loved.  His  letter  this  time,  however,  had  not  a 
word  to  call  for  that  sickness  of  the  heart,  with  which  she  had 
received  it ;  and  she  read  it  again  and  again,  with  a  thankful- 
ness too  intense  for  words. 

"  You  dropped  this,  Ellen  dear,"  said  the  voice  of  her  cousin 
Emmeline  at  her  door,  ten  minutes  after  she  left  the  breakfast- 
room.  "It  was  under  the  table,  and  I  do  not  think  you  have 
read  it ;  it  is  the  inclosure  I  was  so  amused  at." 

"  I  dare  say  it  is  a  letter  written  for  some  other  opportunity, 
and  forgotten  to  be  sent ;  it  is  only  a  few  words,"  replied  Ellen, 
as  she  looked  at  its  length,  not  at  its  meaning,  for  the  fearful 
lesson  of  quiet  unconcern  when  the  heart  is  bursting  had  been 
too  early  learned. 

"  Then  I  will  leave  you  in  peace :  by-the-by,  cousin  mine, 
papa  told  me  to  tell  you,  that  as  the  Prince  William  is  soon 
going  to  cruise  again,  your  answer  to  Edward  must  be  ready 
this  day  week,  the  latest,  and  mamma  says,  if  you  like  to  write 
part  of  it  now  that  all  Edward's  little  love-speeches  are  fresh  in 
your  mind,  you  can  do  so  ;  it  is  your  birthday,  and  you  may 
spend  it  as  you  like.  How  I  shall  enjoy  making  a  lion  of  my 
cousin,  when  he  comes  !  " —  and  away  tripped  the  happy  girl, 
singing  some  wild  snatch  of  an  old  ballad  about  sailors. 

Ellen  shut  the  door,  secured  it,  and  with  a  lip  and  cheek 
colorless  as  her  robe,  an  eye  strained  and  bloodshot,  read  the 
following  words  —  few  indeed  ! 

"  Ellen  !  I  am  again  in  that  villain's  power,  and  for  a  sum 
eo  trifling,  that  it  maddens  me  to  think  I  cannot  discharge  it 
without  agi)in  appealing  to  you.  I  had  resolved  never  to  play 


230  HOME    INFLUENCE. 

again  —  and  again  some  demon  lured  me  to  those  Hells  !  If  1 
do  not  pay  him  by  my  next  receipts  from  home,  he  will  expose 
tne,  and  what  then  —  disgrace,  expulsion,  death  !  for  I  will  not 
survive  it ;  there  are  easy  means  of  self-destruction  to  a  sailor, 
and  who  shall  know  but  that  he  is  accidentally  drowned  ?  You 
promised  me  to  save  part  of  every  allowance,  in  case  I  needed 
it.  If  you  would  indeed  save  me,  send  me  five-and-thirty 
pounds.  Ellen!  by  some  means,  I  must  have  it;  but  breathe 
it  to  my  uncle  or  aunt  —  for  if  she  knows  it,  he  will —  and  you 
will  never  see  me  more  !  " 

For  one  long  hour  Ellen  never  moved.  Her  brain  felt  search- 
ed, her  limbs  utterly  powerless.  Every  word  seemed  to  write 
itself  in  letters  of  fire  on  her  heart  and  brain,  till  she  could 
almost  have  screamed,  from  the  dread  agony ;  and  then  came 
the  heavy  weight,  so  often  felt  before,  but  never  crushing  every 
thought  and  energy  as  now,  the  seeming  utter  impossibility  to 
comply  with  that  fearfully  urged  demand.  He  called  it  a  sum 
so  trifling,  and  she  felt  a  hundred,  ay,  a  thousand  pounds  were 
not  more  difficult  to  obtain.  She  had  saved,  indeed,  denying 
herself  every  little  indulgence,  every  personal  gratification, 
spending  only  what  she  was  obliged,  and  yet  compelled  to  let 
her  aunt  believe  she  had  properly  expended  all,  that  she  might 
have  the  means  of  sending  him  money  when  he  demanded  it, 
without  exposing  herself  to  doubt  and  displeasure  as  before  ; 
but  in  the  eight  months  since  his  last  call,  she  had  only  been 
enabled  to  put  by  fifteen  pounds,  not  half  the  sum  he  needed. 
How  was  she  to  get  the  rest  ?  and  she  had  so  buoyed  herself 
with  the  fond  hope,  that  even  if  lie  did  write  for  help  again, 
she  could  send  it  to  him  so  easily  —  and  now  —  her  mind 
seemed  actually  to  reel  beneath  the  intense  agony  of  these  des- 
perate words.  She  was  too  young,  too  believing,  and  too  terror- 
xtricken  to  doubt  for  a  moment  the  alternative  he  placed  before 
her,  with  a  vividness,  a  desperation,  of  which  he  was  uncon- 
Bcious  himself.  Those  words  spoken,  would  have  been  terrible, 
almost  awful  in  one  so  young — though  a  brief  interval  would 
have  sufficiently  calmed  both  the  hearer  and  the  speaker,  to 
satisfy  that  they  were  but  tvords,  and  that  self-destruction  is 
never  breathed,  if  really  intended  :  but  written,  the  writer  at  a 
distance,  imagination  at  liberty  to  heighten  every  terror,  every 
reality  ;  their  reader,  a  young  loving  girl,  utterly  ignorant  of 
the  world's  ways  and  temptations,  and  the  many  errors  tc  which 
youth  is  subject,  but  from  which  manhood  may  spring  up  un- 
sullied ;  and  so  believing,  almost  crushed  by  the  belief,  that  her 
brother,  the  only  one,  her  own  —  respected,  belcved,  as  he  ivae 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  231 

*aid  to  be  —  had  yet  committed  such  faults,  as  would  hurl  him 
from  his  present  position  to  the  lowest  depth  of  degradation, 
fur  what  else  could  tempt  him,  to  swear  not  to  survive  it?  Was 
it  marvel,  that  poor  Ellen  was  only  conscious  that  she  must  save 
him  ?  Again  did  her  dying  mother  stand  before  her  —  again 
did  her  well-remembered  voice  beseech  her  to  save  him,  her 
darling,  beautiful  Edward,  from  disgrace  and  punishment — 
reiterate  that  her  word  was  pledged,  and  she  must  do  it,  and  if 
she  suffered  —  had  she  not  done  so  from  infancy  —  and  what 
was  her  happiness  to  his  ?  Define  why  it  should  be  of  les° 
moment,  indeed,  she  could  not.  It  was  the  fatal  influences  of 
her  childhood  working  alone. 

How  that  day  passed,  Ellen  never  knew.  She  had  been  too 
long  accustomed  to  control,  to  betray  her  internal  suffering,  (ter- 
ror for  Edward  seemed  to  endow  her  with  additional  self  com- 
mand,) except  by  a  deadly  paleness,  which  even  her  aunt  at 
length  remarked.  It  was  quite  evening,  and  the  party  were  all 
scattered,  when  Mrs.  Hamilton  discovered  Ellen  sitting  in  one 
of  the  deep  recesses  of  the  windows ;  her  work  in  her  lap,  her 
hands  clasped  tightly  together,  and  her  eyes  fixed  on  the  beau- 
tiful scenery  of  the  park,  but  not  seeing  a  single  object. 

"My  dear  Ellen,  I  am  going  to  scold  you,  so  prepare,"  was 
her  aunt's  lively  address,  as  she  approached  and  stood  by  her. 
"  You  need  not  start  so  guiltily  and  look  so  very  terrified,  but 
confess  that  you  are  thinking  about  Edward,  and  worrying  your- 
self that  he  is  not  quite  so  strong  as  he  was,  and  magnifying  his 
wound,  till  you  fancy  it  something  very  dreadful,  when,  I  dare 
say,  if  the  truth  were  told,  he  himself  is  quite  proud  of  it ;  come 
confess,  and  I  will  only  give  you  a  very  little  lecture,  for  your 
excessive  silliness." 

Ellen  looked  up  in  her  face  ;  that  kind  voice,  that  affectionate 
smile,  that  caressing,  constantly  forgiving  love,  would  they  again 
all  be  forfeited,  again  give  way  to  coldness,  loss  of  confidence, 
heightened  displeasure  ?  How  indeed  she  was  to  act,  she  knew 
not ;  she  only  knew  there  must  be  concealment,  the  very  antici- 
pation of  which,  seemed  too  terrible  to  bear,  and  she  bui'St  into 
an  agony  of  tears. 

"Why,  Ellen  —  my  dear  child  —  you  cannot  be  well,  to  let 
either  the  accounts  of  your  brother,  or  my  threatened  scolding, 
so  affect  you,  and  on  your  birthday,  too  !  Why,  all  the  old 
women  would  say  it  was  such  a  bad  omen,  that  you  would  be 
unhappy  all  the  year  round.  Come,  this  will  never  do,  I  must 
lecture,  in  earnest,  if  you  do  not  try  to  conquer  this  ununvial 
.  We  have  much  more  to  be  thankful  for,  in  Sir 


W2  HOME   INFLUENCE. 

Edward's  account  of  our  dear  sailor,  than  to  cry  about ;  he 
might  have  been  seriously  wounded  or  maimed,  and  what  would 
you  have  felt  then  ?  I  wonder  if  he  will  find  as  much  change  in 
you  as  we  shall  in  him.  If  you  are  not  quite  strong  and  quite 
well,  and  quite  happy  to  greet  him  when  he  comes,  I  shall 
consider  my  care  insulted,  and  punish  you  accordingly.  Still 
no  smile.  What  is  the  matter,  dearest  ?  Are  you  really  not 
well  again  ?  " 

Ellen  made  a  desperate  effort,  conquered  her  tears,  and  tried 
to  converse  cheerfully.  It  was  absolute  agony  to  hear  Edward's 
name,  but  she  nerved  herself  to  do  so,  to  acknowledge  she  was 
flunking  of  him ;  and  that  it  was  very  silly  to  worry  about  such 
a  slight  wound :  and  when  Mrs.  Hamilton  proposed  that  they 
should  walk  over  to  Greville  Manor,  and  tell  the  good  news  to 
Mrs.  Greville  and  Mary,  acquiesced  with  apparent  pleasure. 

"Ah  do,  mamma :  you  have  not  asked  me,  but  I  shall  go  not- 
withstanding," exclaimed  Emmeline,  springing  through  the  open 
window,  with  her  usual  airy  step. 

"  Why  Emmeline,  I  thought  you  were  going  to  the  village 
with  your  sister  ! " 

"  No ;  she  and  Miss  Harcourt  were  talking  much  too  soberly 
to  suit  me  this  evening.  Then  I  went  to  tease  papa,  but  he  let 
rue  do  just  what  I  pleased,  being  too  engrossed  with  some  dis- 
agreeable farmers,  to  notice  me ;  so  in  despair,  I  came  here. 
Why,  Ellen,  you  look  as  if  this  were  any  day  but  what  it  is ; 
rmless  you  cry  because  you  are  getting  old,  which  I  am  very 
uften  inclined  to  do  —  only  think,  I  am  sixteen  next  December 
—  how  dreadful !  I  do  wish  my  birthday  were  in  June." 

"  And  what  difference  would  that  make  ?  " 

"  A  great  deal,  mamma ;  only  look  how  lovely  every  thing 
is  now;  nature  is  quite  juvenile,  and  has  dressed  herself  in  so 
many  colors,  and  seems  to  promise  so  many  more  beauties,  that, 
whether  we  will  or  no,  we  must  feel  gay  and  young;  but  in 
December,  though  it  is  very  delightful  in  the  house,  it  is  so 
drear  and  withered  without,  that  if  born  in  such  a  season,  one 
must  feel  withered  too." 

"  When  do  you  intend  to  speak  in  prose,  Emmeline  ?  " 

"  Never,  if  I  can  help  it,  mamma  ;  but  I  must  learn  the  lessou 
before  I  go  to  London,  I  suppose ;  that  horrid  London !  that 
is  one  reason  why  I  regret  the  years  going  so  fast ;  I  know  I 
shall  leave  all  my  happiness  here." 

"  You  will  be  more  ungrateful,  than  I  believe  you,  if  you  do," 
replied  her  mother.  So  pray  banish  such  foolish  fancies  as  fast 
as  ye  i  can;  for  if  you  encourage  them,  I  shall  certainly  tup- 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  2«>J 

pose  that  it  is  only  Oakwood  you  love ;  and  (hat  neither  yotu 
father  nor  myself,  nor  any  member  of  your  family,  has  any 
part  in  3  our  affections,  for  we  shall  be  with  you,  wherever  you 
are." 

"Dear  mamma,  I  spoke  at  random,  forgive  me,"  replied  Em- 
tneline,  instantly  self-reproached.  "I  am  indeed  the  giddy 
brain  papa  calls  me ;  but  you  cannot  tell  how  I  love  this  dear 
old  home." 

"  Indeed  I  think  I  can,  my  dear  child,  loving  it  as  I  do  my- 
self; but  come,  we  shall  have  no  time  for  our  visit,  if  we  do  not 
50  at  once." 

Days  passed,  and  were  each  followed  by  such  sleepless  fever- 
ish nights,  that  Ellen  felt  it  almost  a  miracle  that  she  could  so 
seem,  so  act,  as  to  excite  no  notice.  The  image  of  her  dying 
mother  never  left  her,  night  or  day,  mingled  with  the  horrid 
scene  of  her  father's  death,  and  Edward  disgraced,  expelled, 
and  seeking  death  by  his  own  hand.  There  was  only  one  plan 
that  seemed  in  the  least  feasible,  and  that  was  to  send  to  him, 
or  sell  herself  the  watch  she  had  received  on  her  birthday,  and 
if  that  was  not  enough,  some  few  trinkets,  which  had  been  her 
mother's  and  which  the  last  six  months  her  aunt  had  given  into 
her  own  care.  She  ventured  casually  to  inquire  if  there  were 
any  opportunity  of  sending  a  parcel  to  Edward ;  but  the  answer 
was  in  the  negative,  and  increased  her  difficulty.  The  only 
oerson  she  dared  even  to  think  of  so  far  intrusting  with  her 
leep  distress  and  anxiety  for  money,  but  not  its  cause,  was 
vidow  Langford,  the  mother  of  Robert  (the  young  gentlemen's 
attendant,  whom  we  have  had  occasion  more  than  once  to  men- 
.ion,  and  the  former  nurse  of  all  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hamilton's  child- 
ren.) She  occupied  a  cottage  on  the  outskirts  of  the  park,  and 
was  not  only  a  favorite  with  all  the  young  party,  Ellen  included, 
(for  she  generally  came  to  nurse  her  in  her  many  illnesses,)  but 
was  regarded  with  the  greatest  confidence  and  affection  by  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Hamilton  themselves.  They  had  endeavored  to  re- 
turn her  unwavering  fidelity  and  active  service,  by  taking  her 
only  child  Robert  into  their  family,  when  only  seven ;  placing 
him  under  the  immediate  charge  of  Morris,  the  steward,  and  of 
course  living  in  the  same  house,  of  his  mother  also ;  and  when 
fifteen,  making  him  personal  attendant  to  Percy  and  Herbert, 
who  were  then  about  ten  and  eleven  years  old.  An  older  and 
more  experienced  domestic,  had,  however,  accompanied  the 
young  men  to  college,  and  Robert  remained  employed  in  many 
little  confidential  services  for  his  master  at  Oakwood. 

To  widow  Langford,  Ellen   tried  to  resolve  that  she   would 


23-1  HOML   INFLUENCE. 

apply,  but  her  fearful  utate  of  mental  agony  had  not  marked  th? 
lapse  of  time,  or  had  caused  her  to  forget  that  her  letter  must 
be  ready  in  a  week.  The  party  were  all  going  a  delightful  ex- 
cursion, and  to  drink  tea  at  Greville  Manor,  so  that  they  would 
not  be  home  till  quite  late ;  but  in  the  morning.  Ellen,  though 
she  had  dressed  for  going  out,  appeared  to  have  every  symptom 
of  such  a  violent  headache,  that  her  aunt  advised  her  remaining 
quietly  at  home,  and  she  assented  with  eagerness,  refusing  every 
offer  of  companionship,  saying  if  the  pain  went  off,  she  could 
quite  amuse  herself,  and  if  it  continued,  quietness  and  Ellis's 
nursing  were  the  best  things  for  her. 

"  But  give  me  your  letter  before  we  go  out,  Ellen.  I  am  only 
waiting  for  it,  to  close  mine  to  Sir  Edward.  Why,  my  dear 
have  you  forgotten  I  told  you  it  must  be  ready  by  to-day?"  her 
uncle  added,  surprised  At  her  exclamation  that  she  had  not 
finished  it.  "It  must  be  done  and  sent  to  T — ,  before  four  to- 
day, so  I  do  hope  your  head  will  allow  you  to  write,  for  Ed- 
ward will  be  wofully  disappointed  if  there  be  not  a  line  from 
you,  especially  as,  from  his  ship  cruising  about,  it  may  be  se- 
veral weeks  before  he  can  hear  again.  I  must  leave  my  letter 
with  you,  to  inclose  Edward's  and  seal  up,  and  pray  see  that  it 
goes  in  time." 

Ellen  tried  to  promise  that  it  should,  but  her  tongue  actually 
clove  to  the  roof  of  her  mouth ;  but  all  the  party  dispersing  at 
the  moment,  her  silence  was  unnoticed.  Mr.  Hamilton  gave 
her  his  letter,  and  in  half  an  hour  afterward  she  was  alone. 
She  sat  for  nearly  an  hour  in  her  own  room,  with  her  desk  be- 
fore her,  her  face  buried  in  her  hands,  and  her  whole  frame 
shaking  as  with  an  ague. 

"It  must  be,"  she  said  at  length,  and  unlocking  a  drawer, 
took  thence  a  small  cross,  and  one  or  two  other  trinkets,  put 
them  up,  and  taking  off  her  watch,  looked  at  it  with  such  an 
expression  of  suffering,  that  it  seemed  as  if  she  could  not  go  on, 
carefully  folded  it  up  with  the  other  trinkets,  and  murmuring, 
"  If  nurse  Langdon  will  but  take  these,  and  lend  me  the  twenty 
pounds  till  she  can  dispose  of  them,  I  may  save  him  yet  —  and 
if  she  betray  me  —  if  she  tell  my  aunt  afterward,  at  least  only 
I  shall  suffer;  they  will  not  suspect  him.  But  oh  —  to  lose  — 
to  be  doubted,  hated,  which  1  must  be  at  last.  Oh,  mother 
mother!  Why  may  I  net  tell  my  aunt?  she  would  not  disgrace 
him."  And  again  she  crouched  down,  cowed  by  that  fearful 
struggle  to  the  very  earth.  After  a  few  minutes,  it  passed,  and 
deliberately  putting  on  her  bonnet  and  shawl,  she  took  up  her 
trinkets,  and  set  off  to  the  widow's  cottage,  her  limbs  so  trem 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  235 

filing,  that  she  knew  not  how  she  should  accomplish  even  thai 
short  walk. 

The  wind  was  unusually  high,  although  the  day  was  other' 
wise  lovely,  and  she  was  scarcely  able  to  stand  against  the 
strong  breeze,  especially  as  every  breath  seemed  to  increase 
the  pain  in  her  temples  ;  but  she  persisted.  The  nearest  path 
lay  through  a  thick  shrubbery,  almost  a  wood,  which  the  family 
never  used,  and,  in  fact,  the  younger  members  were  prohibited 
from  taking,  but  secrecy  and  haste  were  all  which  at  that  mo- 
ment entered  Ellen's  mind.  She  felt  so  exhausted  by  the  wind 
blowing  the  branches  and  leaves  noisily  and  confusedly  around, 
that  on  reaching  a  sort  of  grassy  glade,  more  open  than  her 
previous  path,  she  sat  down  a  minute  on  a  mossy  stone.  The 
wind  blew  some  withered  sticks  and  leaves  toward  her,  and, 
among  them,  two  or  three  soiled  pieces  of  thin  paper,  stained 
with  damp,  one  of  which  she  raised  mechanically,  and  started 
up  with  a  wild  cry,  and  seized  the  others  almost  unconsciously. 
She  pressed  her  hands  over  her  eyes,  and  her  lips  moved  in 
the  utterance  of  thanksgiving.  "  Saved  !  —  Edward  and  my- 
self, too  !  —  some  guardian  angel  must  have  sent  them  !  "  if  not 
actually  spoken,  were  so  distinctly  uttered  in  her  heart,  that  she 
thought  she  heard  them  ;  and  she  retraced  her  steps,  so  swift- 
ly —  so  gladly,  the  very  pain  and  exhaustion  were  unfelt.  She 
wrote  for  half  an  hour  intently  —  eagerly  ;  though  that  which 
she  wrote  she  knew  not  herself,  and  never  could  recall.  She 
took  from  the  secret  drawer  of  her  desk  (that  seci'et  drawer 
which,  when  Percy  had  so  laughingly  showed  her  the  secret  of 
ts  spring,  telling  her  nobody  but  himself  knew  it,  she  little 
thought  she  should  have  occasion  so  to  use,)  some  bank  notes, 
of  two,  three,  and  five  pounds  each,  making  the  fifteen  she  had 
so  carefully  hoarded,  and  placed  with  them  the  two  she  had 
found.  As  she  did  so,  she  discovered  that  two  had  clung  so 
closely  together  that  the  sum  was  five  pounds  more  than  she 
wanted.  Still,  as  acting  under  the  influence  of  some  spell,  she 
carelessly  put  one  aside,  sealed  up  the  packet  to  Edward,  in- 
closed it  in  her  uncle's  to  Sir  Edward  Manly,  and  despatched  it 
full  four  hours  before  the  hour  Mr.  Hamilton  had  named.  It 
was  gone  ;  and  she  sat  down  to  breathe.  Some  impulse,  never 
experienced  before,  urged  her,  instead  of  destroying  Edward's 
desperate  letter,  as  she  had  done  similar  appeals,  to  retain  it  in 
a  blank  envelop  in  that  same  secret  drawer.  As  she  tried  to 
rouse  herself  from  a  sort  of  stupor  which  was  strangely  creep- 
ing over  her,  her  eye  caught  the  five  pound  note  which  she  h/ul 
not  had  occasion  to  use,  and  a  thought  of  such  overwhelming 


230  HOME   INFLUENCE. 

wretchedness  rushed  upon  her,  as  effectually,  for  the  moment, 
to  disperse  that  stupor,  and  prostrate  her  in  an  agony  if  suppli- 
cation before  her  God. 

"  What  have  I  done  ?  "  —  if  her  almost  maddening  thoughts 
could  have  found  words,  such  they  would  have  been  —  "  How 
dared  I  appropriate  that  money,  without  one  question  —  one 
thought  —  as  to  whom  it  could  belong?  Sent  me?  No,  no! 
Who  could  have  sent  it  ?  Great  God  of  Mercy  !  Oh,  if  Thy 
wrath  must  fall  on  a  guilty  one,  pour  it  on  me,  but  spare,  spare 
my  brother  !  I  have  sinned,  but  I  meant  it  not  —  thought  not 
of  it  —  knew  not  what  I  did !  Thou  knowest,  Thou  alone 
canst  know,  the  only  thought  of  that  moment  —  the  agony  o! 
this.  No  suffering,  no  wrath,  can  be  too  great  for  me  ;  but, 
oh  !  spare  him  !  " 

How  long  that  withering  agony  lasted,  Ellen  knew  not,  nor 
whether  her  tears  fell,  or  lay  scorching  her  eyes  and  heart. 
The  note  lay  before  her  like  some  hideous  spectre,  from  which 
she  vainly  tried  to  turn.  What  could  she  do  with  it  ?  Take  it 
back  to  the  spot  where  the  others  had  been  blown  to  her  ? 
She  tried  to  rise  to  do  so  ;  but,  to  her  own  terror,  she  found  she 
was  so  powerless,  that  she  actually  could  not  walk.  AVith  des- 
perate calmness  she  placed  it  in  the  little  secret  drawer,  put  up 
the  remainder  of  her  papers,  closed  and  locked  her  desk,  and 
laid  down  upon  her  bed,  for  she  could  sit  up  no  longer.  Ellis 
?ame  to  her  with  an  inquiry  after  her  head,  and  if  she  could 
*ake  her  dinner.  Ellen  asked  for  a  cup  of  coffee,  and  to  be  left 
quite  quiet  instead,  as  writing  had  not  decreased  the  pain  ;  and 
the  housekeeper,  accustomed  to  such  casual  attacks,  did  as  she 
was  requested,  and  came  frequently  to  see  her  in  the  course  o/ 
the  afternoon  and  evening  ;  still  without  perceiving  anything 
unusual,  and,  therefore,  not  tormenting  her  with  any  expression 
of  surprise  or  anxiety. 

Thought  after  thought  congregated  in  the  poor  girl's  mind, 
as  she  thus  lay  ;  so  fraught  with  agony  that  the  physical  suffer- 
ing, which  was  far  more  than  usual,  was  unfelt,  save  in  its  para- 
lyzing effect  on  every  limb.  Her  impulse  was  to  confess  ex- 
actly what  she  had  done  to  her  aunt,  the  moment  she  could  see 
her,  and  conjure  her  to  sentence  her  to  some  heavy  chastise- 
ment, that  must  deaden  her  present  agony  ;  but  this  was  im- 
possible without  betraying  Edward,  and  nullifying  for  him  the 
relief  she  had  sent.  How  could  she  confess  the  sin,  without  the 
full  confession  of  the  use  to  which  that  money" had  been  applie  i  ? 
Whose  were  the  notes  ?  They  were  stained  with  damp,  as  if 
they  must  have  lain  among  those  withered  leaves  some  itne  ; 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  237 

jtnd  yet  she  Lad  heard  no  inquiry  made  about  them,  as  the  loss 
of  so  large  a  sun?  would  surely  have  demanded.  The  only  plan 
she  could  think  cf,  as  bringing  the  least  hope  of  returning  peace, 
was  still  to  beseech  Mrs.  Langford  to  dispose  of  her  watch  and 
trinkets,  and  the  very  first  mention  she  heard  made  of  the 
loss  to  return  the  full  sum  to  the  real  possessor,  if  possible,  so 
secretly  as  for  it  not  to  be  traced  to  herself.  She  thought,  too, 
that  if  she  gave  her  trinkets,  one  by  one,  not  all  together,  to 
Mrs.  Langford,  it  would  be  less  suspicious,  and,  perhaps,  more 
easily  prevail  on  her  to  grant  her  secrecy  and  assistance  ;  and 
if  she  positively  refused,  unless  Ellen  revealed  the  reason  of 
her  desiring  their  disposal,  and  would  solemnly  promise  secrecy, 
she  would  tell  her  so  much  of  her  intense  misery,  as  might  per- 
haps induce  her  to  give  her  aid.  If  she  did  not  demand  the 
reason  and  betrayed  her,  she  must  endure  the  doubt  and  serious 
displeasure  such  a  course  of  acting  on  her  part  would  inevita- 
bly produce ;  but  two  things  alone  stood  clear  before  her ;  she 
must  replace  that  money  —  she  must  keep  Edward's  secret. 
She  would  have  gone  that  very  day  to  Mrs.  Langford,  but  she 
could  not  move,  and  Ellis,  at  seven  o'clock,  prevailed  on  her  to 
undress  and  go  to  bed. 

"  Not  better,  my  Ellen  ?  I  hoped  to-day's  perfect  quietness 
would  have  removed  your  headache,  and  am  quite  disappoint- 
ed," was  Mrs.  Hamilton's  affectionate  address,  as  she  softly 
entered  her  niece's  room,  on  the  return  of  the  happy  party  at 
eleven  at  night,  and  placing  the  lamp  so  that  the  bed  remained 
in  shade  she  could  not  see  any  expression  in  Ellen's  face, 
except  that  of  suffering,  which  she  naturally  attributed  to  phy- 
sical pain.  "  How  hot  your  hands  and  face  are,  love  ;  I  wish 
you  had  not  left  Edward's  letter  to  write  to-day.  I  am  afraid 
we  shall  be  obliged  to  see  Mr.  Maitland's  face  again  to-nior- 
row ;  if  he  were  not  as  kind  a  friend  as  he  is  a  skilful  doctor,  1 
am  sure  you  would  get  quite  tired  of  him,  Ellen.  Shall  I  stay 
with  you  ?  I  cannot  bear  leaving  you  in  pain  and  alone ! ' 
But  Ellen  would  not  hear  of  it ;  the  pain  was  not  more  than 
she  was  often  accustomed  to,  she  said,  and,  indeed,  she  did  not 
mind  being  alone  —  though  the  unusual,  almost  passionate, 
warmth  with  which  she  returned  Mrs.  Hamilton's  fond  kiss,  be- 
trayed it  was  no  indifference  to  the  affectionate  offer  which 
dictated  her  refusal.  It  was  well  Mrs.  Hamilton,  though  anx- 
ious enough  to  feel  the  inclination  to  do  so,  did  not  visit  her 
niece  again,  or  the  convulsive  agony  she  would  have  witnessed, 
.he  choking  sobs  which  burst  forth,  a  few  minutes  after  sho 
disappeared  fiom  Ellen's  sight,  would  have  bewildered  and  tei 
rified  her  yet  more. 


HOME   INFLUENCE. 


CHAPTER  III. 

A    SUMMONS    AND    A    LOSS. 

Mil.  MAITLAXD  declared  Ellen  to  be  ill  of  a  nervous  fever 
which  for  three  days  confined  her  to  her  bed,  and  left  her  very 
weak  for  some  little  time,  and  so  nervous  that  the  least  thing 
seemed  to  startle  her ;  but,  as  he  said  it  was  no  consequence, 
and  she  would  soon  recover,  Mrs.  Hamilton  adopted  his  advice, 
took  no  notice  of  it,  and  only  endeavored  to  make  her  niece's 
daily  routine  as  varied  in  employment,  though  regular  in  hours 
and  undisturbed  in  quiet,  as  she  could.  Perhaps  she  would 
have  felt  more  anxious,  and  discovered  something  not  quite 
usual  in  Ellen's  manner,  if  her  thoughts  had  not  been  painfully 
preoccupied.  About  a  week  after  their  excursion  she  entered 
the  library  earlier  than  usual,  and  found  her  husband  intently 
engaged  with  some  despatches  just  received.  She  saw  he  was 
more  than  ordinarily  disturbed,  and  hesitated  a  moment  whe- 
ther to  address  him  ;  but  he  was  seldom  so  engrossed  as  to  be 
unconscious  of  the  presence  of  his  wife. 

"  I  am  really  glad  you  are  here  at  this  moment,  Emmeline, 
for  I  actually  was  weak  enough  to  shrink  from  seeking  you 
with  unpleasant  news.  Letters  from  Feroe  have  at  length  ar- 
rived, and  my  personal  presence  is  so  imperatively  needed,  that 
I  am  self-reproached  at  not  going  before ;  the  long  silence 
ought  to  have  convinced  me  that  all  was  not  as  it  should  be." 

"  But  what  has  occurred,  Arthur  ?  I  had  no  idea  you  con- 
templated the  necessity  of  going,"  replied  his  wife  very  qui- 
etly, as  she  sat  down  close  by  him ;  but  the  fiat  of  separation^ 
the  thoughts  of  a  perilous  voyage,  a  visit  to  an  almost  desolate 
island,  and  the  impossibility  of  receiving  regular  letters,  so 
crowded  upon  her  all  at  once,  that  it  was  a  strong  effort  to 
speak  at  all. 

"  No,  dearest ;  for  what  was  the  use  of  tormenting  you  with 
disagreeable  anticipations,  when  there  really  might  have  been 
no  foundation  for  them.  The  last  accounts  from  Samboe,  were, 
as  you  know,  received  nearly  two  years  ago,  telling  me  that 
Frederic  Wilson  was  dead,  but  that  his  son  had  been  received 
as  his  siu'.cessor  in  the  ministry,  and  as  civil  guardian  of  the 


HOME  INFLUENCE.  239 

island,  with,  if  possible,  a  still  greater  degree  of  popularity  than 
iiis  predecessors,  from  his  having  been  educated  in  Denmark. 
His  parents  had  lived  on  straitened  means  to  give  him  superior 
advantages,  which,  as  it  proves,  he  would  have  been  much  bet- 
ter without.  The  vices  he  has  acquired  have  far  outrun  the 
advantages.  His  example,  and  that  of  a  band  of  idle,  irregular 
spirits  who  have  joined  him,  has  not  only  scandalized  the  sim- 
ple people  but  disturbed  their  homesteads,  brought  contention 
and  misery,  and  in  some  cases  bloodshed ;  so  that  in  point  of 
social  and  domestic  position,  I  fear  they  have  sunk  lower  than 
when  my  grandfather  first  sought  the  island.  The  mother  of 
this  unhappy  young  man  has,  naturally,  perhaps,  but  weakly, 
shrunk  from  informing  against  him ;  but  her  brother,  the  cler- 
gyman of  Osteroe,  has  at  length  taken  upon  himself  to  do  so, 
clearly  stating  that  nothing  but  personal  interference  and  some 
months'  residence  among  them  will  effect  a  reformation ;  and 
that  the  ruin  is  more  to  be  regretted,  as  the  little  island  has 
been  for  more  than  half  a  century  the  admiration  not  only  of 
its  immediate  neighbors,  but  of  all  who  have  chanced  to  harbor 
off  its  coast.  He  states,  too,  that  if  properly  directed  and  not 
exposed  to  the  contagion  of  large  cities,  as  his  brother  has 
been,  poor  Wilson's  younger  son,  now  a  boy  of  eleven,  may 
become  as  worthy  and  judicious  a  pastor  as  his  father  and 
grandfather,  and  so  keep  the  office  in  his  family,  as  my  grand- 
father was  so  desirous  of  doing.  The  question  is,  how  is  this 
boy  to  be  educated  on  the  island,  and  whom  can  I  find  to  take 
the  ministry  meanwhile  ?  " 

"And  must  your  own  residence  there  be  very  long  ?  "  inquired 
Mrs.  Hamilton,  still  in  that  quiet  tone,  but  her  lip  quivered. 

"  It  depends  entirely  on  whom  I  can  get  to  accompany  me, 
dearest.  I  must  set  Mr.  Howard  and  Morton  to  work  to  find 
me  some  simple-minded,  single-hearted  individual,  who  will 
regard  this  undertaking  in  the  same  missionary  spirit  as  the 
elder  Wilson  did.  If  I  am  happy  enough  to  succeed  in  this,  I 
hope  a  year,  or  somewhat  less,  will  be  the  farthest  limit  of  our 
separation." 

"A  year!  a  whole  long  year  —  dearest  Arthur,  must  it  be  sc 
very,  very  long  ?  " 

li  Who  tried  to  persuade  Ellen,  a  fortnight  ago,  that  a  year, 
even  two  years,  would  pass  so  very  quickly  ? "  replied  Mr 
Hamilton,  trying  to  smile,  and  folding  his  arm  fondly  round  his 
wife,  he  kissed  the  cheek  which  had  become  pale  from  the 
effort  to  restrain  her  feelings.  "  It  is  indeed  an  unexpected 
an!  a  painful  trial,  sind,  as  is  generally  the  case  with  our  rebel« 


240  HOME    INFLUENCE. 

lions  spirits,  I  feel  as  if  it  would  have  been  better  borne  at  any 
other  period  than  the  present.  "VVe  had  so  portioned  out  this 
year,  had  so  anticipated  gratifying  Caroline  by  introducing  her 
lo  the  so  long  and  so  eagerly  anticipated  pleasures  of  London 
next  January,  that  I  cannot  bear  to  think  of  her  disappoint 
inent," 

"And  our  boys,  too,  they  say  it  is  so  strange  to  be  without 
their  father,  even  in  college  term  ;  what  will  it  be  when  they 
come  home  for  the  long  vacation,  to  which  we  have  all  so 
looked  forward  ?  But  this  is  all  weakness,  my  own  dear  hus- 
band ;  forgive  me,  I  am  only  rendei'ing  your  duty  more  diffi- 
cult," she  added,  raising  her  head  from  his  shoulder,  and 
smiling  cheerfully,  even  while  the  tears  glistened  in  her  eyes. 
"  I  must  try  and  practise  my  own  lesson,  and  believe  the  term 
of  separation  will  really  pass  quickly,  interminable  as  it  now 
seems.  We  have  been  so  blessed,  so  guarded  from  the  bitter 
pang  of  even  partial  separation  for  twenty  years,  that  how 
dare  I  murmur  now  the  trial  has  come  ?  It  is  God's  pleasure, 
dearest  Arthur,  though  it  seems  like  the  work  of  man,  and  as 
His  we  can  endure  it." 

"  Bless  you,  my  beloved !  you  have  indeed  put  a  new  spirit 
in  me  by  those  words,"  replied  her  husband,  with  a  fondness, 
the  more  intense  from  the  actual  veneration  that  so  largely 
mingled  with  it.  "And  bitter  disappointment  as  it  is  to  me  to 
be  from  home  when  our  sons  return,  it  is  better  so,  perhaps,  for 
their  company  will  wile  away  at  least  nearly  three  months  of 
my  absence." 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hamilton  remained  some  hours  together  that 
morning  in  earnest  conversation.  All  of  individual  regret  was 
conquered  for  the  sake  of  the  other :  its  expression,  at  least,  not 
its  feeling ;  but  they  understood  each  other  too  well,  too  fondly, 
to  need  words  or  complaints  to  prove  to  either  IIOAV  intensely 
painful  was  the  very  thought  of  separation.  To  elude  the  per- 
formance of  a  duty  which  many  persons,  unable  to  enter  into 
the  hope  of  effecting  good,  would,  no  doubt,  pronounce  Quix- 
otic —  for  what  could  the  poor  inhabitants  of  Samboe  be  to 
him  ?  —  never  entered  either  Mr.  or  Mrs.  Hamilton's  mind. 
I  le  was  not  one  to  neglect  his  immediate  duties  for  distant  ones ; 
'nit  believed  and  acted  on  the  belief,  that  both  could  be  united. 
His  own  large  estate,  its  various  farms,  parishes,  and  villages, 
were  so  admirably  ordered,  that  he  could  leave  it  without  the 
smallest  scruple  in  the  hands  of  his  wife  and  steward.  Though 
interested  in,  and  actually  assisting  in  the  political  movements 
of  his  country,  he  WH.S  still,  as  from  his  youth  he  had  firmly 


HOME  INFLUENCE.  241 

resolved  to  be,  a  free,  independent  Englishman ;  bound  to  no 
party,  but  respected  by  all ;  retaining  his  own  principles  un- 
shaken as  a  rock,  though  often  and  often  his  integrity  had  been 
tried  by  court  bribes  and  dazzling  offers.  And  yet,  rare  blend- 
ing with  such  individual  feelings,  Arthur  Hamilton  looked  with 
candor  and  kindness  on  the  conduct  and  principles  of  others, 
however  they  might  differ  from  his  own,  and  found  excuses  for 
them,  which  none  others  could.  That  he  should  give  up  all  the 
comforts,  the  luxuries,  the  delights  of  his  peculiarly  happy 
home,  to  encounter  several  months'  sojourn  in  a  bleak,  half- 
civilized  island,  only  in  the  hope  of  restoring  and  insuring  moral 
and  religious  improvement  to  a  small  colony  of  human  beings, 
whose  sole  claim  upon  him  was,  that  they  were  immortal  as 
himself,  and  that  they  had  done  a  kindness  to  his  grandfather 
more  than  half  a  century  back,  was  likely  to,  and  no  doubt  did, 
sxcite  the  utmost  astonishment  in  very  many  circles ;  but  not  a 
?neer,  not  a  word  seeming  to  whisper  good  should  be  done  at 
jome  before  sought  abroad,  could  find  a  moment's  resting-place 
near  Arthur  Hamilton's  name. 

For  half  an  hour  after  Mrs.  Hamilton  quitted  her  husband 
she  remained  alone,  and  when  she  rejoined  her  family,  though 
she  might  have  been  a  shade  paler  than  her  wont,  she  was  as 
cheerful  in  conversation  and  earnest  in  manner  as  usual.  That 
evening  Mr.  Hamilton  informed  his  children  and  Miss  Harcourt 
of  his  intended  departure,  and  consequent  compelled  change  of 
plan.  Emmeline's  burst  of  sorrow  was  violent  and  uncontrolled. 
Caroline  looked  for  a  minute  quite  bewildered,  and  then  hasten- 
ing to  her  father  threw  one  arm  round  his  neck,  exclaiming,  in 
a  voice  of  the  most  affectionate  sincerity,  "Dear  papa,  what 
shall  we  do  without  you  for  such  a  long  time?" 

"My  dear  child!  I  thank  you  for  such  an  affectionate 
.nought;  believe  me,  the  idea  of  your  wishes  being  postponed 
has  pained  me  as  much  as  any  thing  else  in  this  unpleasant 
duty." 

"  My  wishes  postponed,  papa  —  what  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"Have  you  quite  forgotten  our  intended  plans  for  next  Jan  a- 
ary,  my  love  ?  My  absence  must  alter  them." 

For  a  moment  an  expression  of  bitter  disappointment  clouded 
Caroline's  open  countenance. 

"  Indeed,  papa,  I  had  forgotten  it ;  I  only  thought  of  your 
going  away  for  so  many  months.  It  is  a  great  disappointment, 
I  own,  and  I  dare  say  I  shall  feel  it  still  more  when  January 
comes ;  but  I  am  sure  parting  from  you  must  be  a  still  greater 
triR1  to  mamma,  than  any  such  disappointment  ought  to  be  to 


242  HOME    INFLUENCE. 

me;  and,  indeed,  I  will  try  and  bear  it  as  uncomplainingly  and 
cheerfully  as  she  does." 

Her  father  almost  involuntarily  drew  her  to  his  heart,  and 
kissed  her  two  or  three  times,  without  speaking;  and  Caroline 
was  very  glad  he  did  so,  for  when  she  looked  up  again,  the 
tears  that  would  come  at  the  first  thought  of  her  disappoint- 
ment were  bravely  sent  back  again;  and  she  tried  to  cheer 
Emmeline,  by  assuring  .her  she  never  could  be  like  her  favorite 
heroines  of  romance,  if  she  behaved  so  very  much  like  a  child, 
taking  the  opportunity  when  they  retired  for  the  night,  to  say 
more  seriously  — 

"Dear  Emmeline,  do  try  and  be  as  lively  as  you  alwaye 
are.  I  am  sure  poor  mamma  is  suffering  very  much  at  the  idea 
of  papa's  leaving  us,  though  she  will  not  let  us  see  that  she 
does,  and  if  you  give  way  so,  it  will  make  her  more  uncomfort- 
able still." 

Emmeline  promised  to  try ;  but  her  disposition,  quite  as  sus- 
ceptible to  sorrow  as  to  joy,  and  not  nearly  as  firm  as  her 
sister's,  rendered  the  promise  very  difficult  to  fulfil.  It  was 
her  first  sorrow;  and  Mrs.  Hamilton  watched  her  with  some 
anxiety,  half  fearful  that  she  had  been  wrong  to  shield  her  so 
carefully  from  any  thing  like  grief,  if,  when  it  came,  she  should 
prove  unequal  to  its  firm  and  uncomplaining  endurance.  Ellen 
had  been  out  of  the  room  when  Mr.  Hamilton  had  first  spoken  ; 
and  engaged  in  soothing  Emmeline;  when  she  reentered  and 
the  news  was  communicated  to  her,  he  did  not  observe  any 
thing  particular  in  her  mode  of  receiving  it.  But  Mrs.  Hamil- 
ton was  so  struck  with  the  expression  of  her  countenance,  which, 
as  she  tried  somewhat  incoherently  to  utter  regrets,  took  the 
place  of  its  usual  calm,  that  she  looked  at  her  several  minutes 
in  bewilderment;  but  it  passed  again,  so  completely,  that  she 
was  angry  with  herself  for  fancying  any  thing  uncommon. 
Caroline,  however,  had  remarked  it  too,  and  she  could  not  help 
observing  to  Miss  Harcourt,  the  first  time  they  were  alone  — 

"  You  will  say  I  am  always  fancying  something  extraordi- 
nary, Miss  Harcourt;  but  Ellen  certainly  did  look  pleased  last 
night,  when  mamma  told  her  of  papa's  intended  departure." 

41  The  expression  must  have  been  something  extraordinary 
for  you  to  remark  it  at  all,"  replied  Miss  Harcourt;  nobody 
but  Mrs.  Hamilton,  whose  penetration  is  out  of  the  common,  can 
ever  read  any  thing  on  Ellen's  face." 

"  And  it  was  for  that  very  reason  I  looked  again  ;  and  mamma 
noticed  it  too,  and  was  surprised,  though  she  did  not  say  any 
thing'.  If  she  really  be  pleased  she  is  most  ungrateful;  and  all 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  24tf 

her  i  rofession  of  feeling  mamma  and  papa's  constant  kindness 
sheer  deceit.  I  never  shall  understand  Ellen,  I  believe  ;  but  I 
do  hope  mamma  will  never  discover  that  she  is  not  exactly  that 
which  her  affection  believes  her." 

"  Pray  do  not  talk  so,  my  dear  Caroline,  or  I  shall  be  tempted 
to  confess  that  you  are  giving  words  to  my  own  feelings.  Her 
conduct  with  regard  to  the  disappearance  of  her  allowance,  the 
wholly  unsatisfactory  account  of  its  expenditure,  even  every 
month,  for  she  seems  to  me  to  mention  many  things  she  has 
never  had,  banish  every  hopeful  feeling,  and  I  dread  more  than 
I  can  tell  you,  the  very  thing  you  have  expressed.  But  all  this 
is  very  wrong ;  we  have  relieved  each  other  by  a  mutual  ac- 
knowledgment, and  now  let  us  never  revert,  even  in  thought,  if 
possible,  to  the  subject." 

Caroline  willingly  acquiesced,  for  it  was  far  from  agreeable. 
Mr.  Hamilton's  preparations,  meanwhile,  rapidly  progressed. 
He  imparted  his  wishes  for  a  companion  willing  to  remain  in 
the  island ,  till  young  Wilson  should  be  prepared  for  the  mi- 
nistry, both  to  Mr.  Howard  and  Mr.  Morton,  (the  latter  still  re- 
mained in  his  desolate  parish,  still  more  isolated  in  feeling  from 
the  loss  of  both  his  parents,  and  Percy's  absence,)  and  both, 
especially  Morton,  gave  him  every  hope  of  obtaining  the  cha- 
racter he  wanted.  His  next  inquiry  was  at  Dartmouth  for 
Btrong,  well-built  vessel,  fitted  to  encounter  the  stormy  seas 
between  Scotland  and  Feroe,  determining  to  do  all  in  his  power 
to  provide  some  means  of  regular  communication  between  him- 
self and  the  beloved  inmates  of  his  home.  "VVick,  in  Caithness, 
was  the  farthest  post  town  to  which  letters  could  be  addressed. 
Every  ten  days  or  fortnight  communications  were  to  be  sent 
there,  and  the  Siren,  after  conveying  him  to  Feroe,  was  regu- 
larly to  ply  between  Samboe  and  Wick,  bringing  from  the 
latter  place  to  Mr.  Hamilton  the  various  letters  that  had  accu- 
mulated there,  should  unfavorable  winds  have  lengthened  the 
voyage,  and  forwarding  his  through  that  post  to  his  home.  By 
this  means,  he  hoped  to  hear  and  be  heard  of  regularly ;  an 
intense  relief,  if  it  really  could  be  so  accomplished,  to  his  wife. 

As  soon  as  a  ship,  a  competent  captain,  mate,  and  crew  were 
obtained,  Mr.  Hamilton  set  off  for  Oxford  and  London,  wishing 
in  the  latter  place  to  see  his  friend  Grahame,  and  in  the  former 
to  pass  a  few  days  with  his  sons,  who,  knowing  nothing  of  his 
summons,  received  bun  with  unbounded  delight.  Their  regret, 
when  they  heard  the  cause  of  his  visit,  was  as  great  as  their  joy 
had  been.  Percy,  in  a  desperate  fit  of  impatience,  wished  ihe 
little  island  and  all  it,  concerns  at  the  botton  of  the  sea,  the  b3st 


244  HOME    INFLUENCE. 


for  such  unruly,  disagreeable  people  ;  and  he  was  only 
sobered  when  his  father  put  before  him  that,  though  it  must  be. 
a  very  heightened  individual  disappointment,  it  was  the  greatest 
comfort  to  him,  to  think  that  they  would  both  be  with  their 
mother  and  sisters  the  iirst  few  months  of  his  absence.  Percy 
instantly  altered  his  tone. 

"  You  are  quite  right,  my  dear  father  ;  I  was  very  selfish  not 
to  think  of  it.  Trust  me  for  making  my  dearest  mother  as 
cheerful  and  has  happy  as  I  can.  You  don't  know  what  a 
guardian  angel  the  thought  of  her  love  has  been  to  me  in  tempt- 
ation ;  and  as  for  Bertie,  if  ever  I  thought  he  was  studying  him- 
self ill,  and  not  taking  the  care  of  himself  he  ought,  or  wanted 
him  to  take  exercise  and  recreation,  when  he  thought  me  a  great 
bore,  the  word  mother,  made  him  yield  at  once." 

And  Herbert's  kindling  eye  and  cheek  bore  testimony  to  the 
truth  of  his  brother's  words.  His  only  feeling  and  exclamation 
had  been,  if  he  might  but  accompany  his  father,  and  save  him 
all  the  trouble  he  could  ;  allowing,  however,  its  impossibility, 
when  the  circumstances  of  his  still  delicate  health  and  the 
necessity  for  uninterrupted  study,  were  placed  before  him. 

That  visit  to  Oxford  was  a  proud  one  for  Mr.  Hamilton. 
His  sons  held  that  place  in  the  estimation  of  the  professors, 
superiors,  and  their  fellow-collegians,  which  their  early  influ- 
ences had  promised,  and  which,  as  the  sons  of  Arthur  Hamilton, 
seemed  naturally  their  own.  Percy  could  so  combine  firmness 
in  principle,  unbending  rectitude  in  conduct,  with  such  a  spirit 
of  fun  and  enjoyment,  as  rendered  him  the  pi'ime  mover  of  all 
sports  at  Oxford,  as  he  had  been  at  Oakwood  ;  and  Herbert, 
though  so  gentle  and  retiring  as  (until  Percy's  spirit  was  roused 
to  shield  him)  gained  him  many  nicknames  and  many  petty 
annoyances,  silently  and  insensibly  won  his  way,  and  so  bore 
with  the  thoughtless,  the  mirthful,  and  even  the  faulty,  as  at 
length  to  gain  him  the  privilege  of  being  allowed  to  do  just  as 
he  liked,  and  win,  by  his  extraordinary  talents,  the  admiration 
and  love  of  all  the  professors  with  whom  he  was  thrown. 

Morton  had  promised  to  introduce  a  person  to  Mr.  Hamilton 
on  his  return  from  Oxford,  who,  if  approved  of,  would  be  his 
willing,  his  eager  assistant,  and  gladly  remain  in  the  island, 
attending  to  all  that  was  required  in  its  superintendence,  and  in 
the  education  of  young  Wilson,  till  he  was  old  enough  and  pro- 
perly fitted  to  take  his  father's  place.  Great,  then,  was  Mr. 
Hamilton's  disappointment,  when  Morton  entered  his  library, 
according  to  appointment,  but  quite  alone.  Still  greater  was 
his  astovishrnent,  when  he  found  it  was  Morton  himself,  thus 


HOME    INFLUENCE.  245 

f.agerly  desiious  to  become  his  companion,  urging  liis  wishes, 
bis  motives,  Mr.  Howard's  sanction,  with  such  earnestness,  such 
Bi'ngle-mindedness  of  purpose,  that  every  objection  which,  for 
Morton's  own  sake,  Mr.  Hamilton  so  stranuously  brought  for- 
ward, was  overruled ;  and  after  a  lengthened  interview,  matters 
were  arranged  to  the  entire  satisfaction  of  both  parties.  The 
idea  of  the  companionship  and  aid  of  such  a  friend  as  Morton 
bringing  as  great  a  relief  to  both  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hamilton,  as 
their  acquiescence  filled  the  whole  heart  of  the  young  mission- 
ary with  the  most  unbounded  gratitude  and  joy.  He  suggested 
many  little  things,  which,  in  the  agitation  of  his  hasty  sum- 
mons, had  escaped  his  friends,  and  his  whole  being  seemed 
transformed  from  despondency  and  listlsssness  to  energy  and 
hope.  Engrossed  as  he  was,  Mr.  Hamilton's  usual  thought  for 
others  had  not  deserted  him,  and  he  remarked  that  one  of  his 
household,  Robert  Langford,  so  often  mentioned,  appeared  to 
linger  in  the  library  after  morning  and  evening  service,  as  if 
anxious  to  speak  to  him,  but  failing  in  courage  so  to  do.  He 
thought,  too,  that  the  young  man  seemed  quite  altered,  dis- 
pirited, gloomy,  almost  wretched  at  times,  instead  of  the  mirth- 
ful, happy  being  he  had  been  before.  Determining  to  give 
him  an  opportunity  of  speaking  before  his  departure,  if  he 
wished  it,  Mr.  Hamilton  summoned  him  to  arrange,  write  a 
list,  and  pack  some  books,  which  Morton  had  selected  to  take 
with  him.  For  some  time  Robert  pursued  his  work  in  perse- 
vering silence,  but  at  length  fixed  his  eyes  on  his  master  with 
such  beseeching  earnestness,  that  Mr.  Hamilton  inquired  the 
matter  at  once.  It  was  some  sime  before  the  young  man  could 
sufficiently  compose  himself  to  speak  with  any  coherency,  but 
at  last  Mr.  Hamilton  gathered  the  following  details. 

About  five  weeks  previous  (the  first  day  of  June)  he  had 
been  intrusted,  as  he  had  very  often  before  been,  by  his  master, 
with  certain  papers  and  law  articles  to  convey  to  Plymouth, 
and  with  a  pocket-book  containing  thirty  pounds,  in  two  ten 
and  two  five  pound  notes,  which  he  had  orders  to  leave  at  some 
poor  though  respectable  families,  whom  Mr.  Hamilton  was  in 
the  habit  of  occasionally  assisting,  though  they  were  out  of  his 
own  domains.  The  morning  he  was  to  have  started  on  this  ex- 
pedition a  cousin,  whom  he  had  always  regarded  as  a  brother, 
came  unexpectedly  to  see  him.  He  had  just  arrived  at  Ply- 
mouth from  a  four  years'  residence  with  his  regiment  in  Ireland  : 
and  Robert's  glee  was  so  great  as  to  require  reiterated  com- 
mands from  the  steward  to  take  care  of  the  papers,  and  not 
at  his  mother's  cottage,  where  he  was  to  take  his  cousin, 
12 


i*46  HOME   INFLUENCE. 

later  than  the  afternoon.  He  lingered  sc  long  before  he  set 
off  from  Oakwood,  that  he  gathered  up  all  the  papers  as  quickly 
as  he  could,  forgot  his  principal  charge,  so  far  at  least  as  not 
to  look  to  the  secure  fastening  of  the  pocket-book,  and  hastened 
with  his  cousin  through  the  brushwood  and  glade  we  have  be- 
fore mentioned,  to  his  mother's  cottage.  It  was  very  hot,  and 
the  young  men,  heated  and  in  eager  conversation,  took  off  their 
coats,  threw  them  loosely  over  their  ai-ms,  and  proceeded  on 
their  walk  without  them,  much  too  engrossed  with  each  other 
to  be  aware  that,  as  they  carried  their  coats,  it  was  the  easiest 
and  most  natural  thing  possible  for  all  the  smaller  contents  of 
their  pockets  to  fall  out,  and  if  not  missed  directly,  from  the 
winding  and  rugged  wood  path,  not  likely  to  be  found  again. 

A  draught  of  cider  and  half  an  hour's  rest  at  Mrs.  Lang- 
ford's  cottage  sufficiently  revived  Robert  to  resume  his  coat ; 
he  satisfied  himself  that  his  packet  of  papers  was  secure,  and, 
as  he  imagined  from  the  feel  of  another  pocket,  the  pocket- 
book  also. 

What,  then,  was  his  consternation,  when  he  approached  the 
first  house  at  which  he  was  to  leave  ten  pounds  of  the  money, 
about  twenty  miles  from  Oakwood,  to  discover  that  the  pocket- 
book  was  gone  !  and  that  which,  by  its  feel,  he  believed  to  have 
been  it,  an  old  card-case,  that  his  young  master  Percy  had 
laughingly  thrown  at  him  one  day  after  failing  in  his  endeavor 
to  emblazon  it,  the  sticky  materials  he  had  used  causing  it  to 
adhere  to  whatever  it  touched,  and  so  preserving  it  in  Robert's 
pocket,  when  almost  all  the  other  things  had  fallen  out.  He 
racked  his  memory  in  vain  as  to  what  could  have  become  of 
it,  convinced  that  he  had  not  left  it  at  Oakwood,  as  he  first 
sincerely  wished  that  he  had.  Two  or  three  other  things  had 
also  disappeared,  and  it  suddenly  Hashed  upon  him,  that  when 
carrying  his  coat  over  his  arm  they  must  have  fallen  out.  He 
cursed  his  thoughtlessness  again  and  again,  and  would  have  re- 
traced his  steps  immediately,  but  the  papers  with  which  he  was 
intrusted  had  to  be  delivered  at  Plymouth  by  a  certain  hour, 
and  he  could  not  do  it.  The  intense  heat  of  the  day  gave 
place  in  the  evening  to  a  tremendous  storri  of  thunder  and 
lightning,  wind,  and  very  heavy  rain,  which  last  continued  un- 
abated through  the  night.  He  returned  home,  or  rather  to  l.ia 
mother's  cottage,  the  next  day,  in  a  state  of  mind  little  re- 
moved from  distraction  ;  searching  the  path  he  had  traversed 
with  his  cousin  in  every  direction,  but  only  succeeded  in  finding 
3ome  worthless  triHes,  and  the  pocket-book  itself,  but  open  and 
empty  ;  but  at  a  little  distance  from  it  one  five  pound  note.  In 


HOME    INFLUENCE.  247 

an  instant  lie  remembered  that  in  his  hurry  he  had  failed  to  see 
to  its  proper  fastening ;  if  he  had,  all  would  have  been  right, 
for  the  wind  and  rain  would  hardly  have  had  power  to  open  it, 
and  disperse  its  contents.  Hour  after  hour  he  passed  in  the 
vain  search  for  the  remainder  ;  the  storm  had  rendered  the  path 
more  intricate ;  the  ground  was  slimy,  and  quantities  of  dried 
sticks  and  broken  branches  and  leaves  almost  covered  it.  He 
told  his  tale  to  his  mother  in  the  deepest  distress  ;  what  was  he 
to  do  ?  She  advised  him  to  tell  the  steward  the  whole  story, 
and  to  request  him  to  keep  back  the  sum  she  was  in  the  habit 
of  receiving  quarterly,  till  the  whole  amount  could  be  repaid. 
Robert  obeyed  her,  but  with  most  painful  reluctance,  though 
even  then  he  did  not  imagine  all  the  misery  his  carelessness 
would  entail  upon  him.  Morris,  as  was  natural,  was  exceed- 
ingly displeased,  and  not  only  reproved  him  very  severely,  but 
let  fall  suspicions  as  to  the  truth  of  his  story ;  he  knew  nothing 
of  his  cousin,  he  said,  and  could  not  say  what  company  he  might 
have  been  led  into.  If  the  notes  had  fallen  out  of  his  pocket 
during  his  walk,  they  must  be  found ;  it  was  all  nonsense  that 
the  wind  and  rain  could  so  have  scattered  and  annihilated  them, 
as  to  remove  all  trace  of  them.  He  would  not  say  any  thing  to 
his  master,  because  it  would  only  annoy  him,  and  the  charities 
he  would  give  himself,  not  from  Mrs.  Langford's  allowance,  but 
from  Robert's  own  wages,  which  he  should  certainly  stop  till 
the  whole  sum  was  paid ;  he  should  take  care  how  he  intrusted 
such  a  responsible  office  to  him  again. 

Robert  was  at  first  indignant,  and  violent  in  his  protestations 
of  the  truth  of  his  story ;  but  as  it  got  wind  in  the  servants' 
hall,  as  he  found  himself  suspected  and  shunned  by  almost  all, 
as  days  merged  into  weeks,  and  there  was  no  trace  of  the  notes, 
and  Morris  and  Ellis  both  united  in  declaring  that,  as  no 
strangers  passed  through  that  part  of  the  park,  if  found  they 
must  have  been  heard  of,  the  young  man  sunk  into  a, state  of 
the  most  gloomy  despondency,  longing  to  tell  his  kind  master 
uhe  whole  tale,  and  yet,  naturally  enough,  shrinking  from  the 
Iread  of  his  suspicion  of  his  honesty,  as  more  terrible  than  all 
the  rest. 

But  Mr.  Hamilton  did  not  suspect  him,  and  so  assured  him 
>f  his  firm  belief  in  his  truth  and  innocence,  that  it  was  with 
great  difficulty  poor  Robert  refrained  from  throwing  himself  at 
his  feet  to  pour  forth  his  gratitude.  He  was  so  severely  pun- 
ished from  his  heedlessness,  that  his  master  would  not  say  much 
about  it,  and  soon  after  dismissing  him,  summoned  Morris,  and 
talked  with  him  some  time  on  the  subject,  declaring  he  would 


248  HOME   INFLUENCE. 

as  soon  suspect  his  own  son  of  dishonesty  as  the  boy  \\  ho  had 
grown  up  under  his  own  eye  from  infancy,  and  the  son  of  such 
a  mother.  I;  was  very  distressing  for  Mrs.  Langford  certainly 
the  old  steward  allowed,  and  she  looked  sad  enough  ;  but  it  was 
no  use,  he.  had  tried  hard  enough  to  prevent  his  suspicions,  but 
they  woii  d  come.  None  but  the  servants  and  the  woodmen 
and  gardeners  went  that  path,  and  if  the  notes  had  been  drop- 
ped there,  they  must  have  been  found  ;  and  it  was  a  very  hard 
thing  for  the  other  servants,  as  none  knew  who  might  be  sus- 
pected of  appropriating  them.  His  master  was  much  too  kind 
in  his  opinions,  but  he  must  forgive  him  if  he  continued  to  keep 
a  sharp  look  out  after  the  young  man.  Morris  was  very  old, 
and  somewhat  opinionated ;  so  all  that  his  master  could  suc- 
ceed in,  was  to  insist  that  he  should  only  keep  back  half  of 
Kobert's  Avages,  till  the  sum  was  paid. 

"  Take  away  the  whole,  and  if  he  have  been  unfortunately 
led  into  temptation,  which  I  do  not  believe  he  has,  you  expose 
him  to  it  again,"  was  his  judicious  command.  "  It  is  all  right 
he  should  return  it,  even  though  lost  only  by  carelessness ;  but 
I  will  not  have  him  put  to  such  straits  for  want  of  a  little 
money,  as  must  be  the  case  if  you  deprive  him  of  all  his  wages  ; 
and  now,  my  good  Morris,  if  yon  cannot  in  conscience  repeat 
my  firm  opinion  of  this  lad's  innocence  to  the  servants,  I  mast 
do  it  myself." 

And  that  very  evening  after  prayers,  when  the  whole  house- 
hold were  assembled  in  the  library,  Mr.  Hamilton  addressed 
them  simply  and  briefly,  mentioning  that  Robert  Langford  had 
himself  told  his  tale  to  him,  and  that  it  was  his  own  opinion,  and 
that  of  their  mistress,  that  he  did  not  deserve  the  suspicions  at- 
tached to  him,  and  that  his  fellow-servants  would  all  be  acting 
more  charitably  and  religiously  if  they  believed  his  story,  until 
they  had  had  some  strong  proof  to  the  contrary ;  he  could  not, 
of  course,  interfere  with  private  opinion;  he  could  only  tell 
them  his  own  and  their  lady's.  He  acknowledged  it  was  a  very 
unpleasant  occurrence,  but  he  begged  them  all  to  dismiss  the 
idea  that  suspicion  could  be  attached  to  either  of  them ;  he  felt 
too  convinced  that  had  any  one  of  his  household  chanced  to  find 
the  missing  notes,  they  would  at  once  have  mentioned  it  to  the 
steward  or  housekeeper,  more  especially  since  Robert's  loss  had 
been  known  among  them  only  a  few  days  after  it  had  occurred. 
Appropriation,  he  need  not  tell  them,  in  such  a  case  was  theft, 
and  of  that  sin,  he  was  perfectly  certain,  not  one  present  would 
be  gu'lty.  He  allowed  that  it  would  be  much  more  satisfactory 
to  have  the  tangible  proof  of  Robert's  innocence  by  discovering 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  249 

tome  trace  of  them,  but  it  was  not  unlikely  /he  heavy  wind  and 
rain  had  destroyed  the  thin  material  of  the  notes  cr  borne  them 
into  the  brambly  brushwood,  where  it  was  scarcely  possible 
th  >y  could  be  found. 

If  the  attention  of  Mrs.  Hamilton,  her  daughters,  and  Miss 
Harcourt  had  not  been  naturally  riveted  on  Mr.  Hamilton's  ad- 
dress, and  its  effect  on  the  servants,  especially  Robert,  whose 
emotion  was  almost  overpowering,  they  must  have  remarked 
that  Ellen  had  shrunk  into  the  shade  of  the  heavy  curtains  fall- 
ing by  one  of  the  windows,  and  had  unconsciously  grasped  the 
oaken  back  of  one  of  the  massive  chairs ;  lips,  cheek,  and  brow, 
white  and  rigid  as  sculptured  marble.  An  almost  supernatural 
effort  alone  enabled  her  to  master  the  crushing  agony,  sending 
the  blood  up  to  her  cheeks  with  such  returning  violence,  that 
when  she  wished  her  aunt  and  uncle  good  night,  she  might  have 
been  .thought  more  flushed  than  pale;  but  it  passed  unnoticed 
Mrs.  Hamilton  too  much  annoyed  on  Mrs.  Langford's  account 
to  think  at  that  moment  of  any  thing  but  how  she  could  best  set 
the  poor  mother's  heart  at  rest.  It  was  very  evident  that  though 
some  of  the  domestics,  after  their  master's  address,  came  up  to 
Robert,  shook  hands  with  him  and  begged  his  pardon,  the  greatei 
number  still  sided  with  Morris,  and  retained  their  own  less  fa- 
vorable opinion,  and  she  could  well  imagine  what  Mrs.  Lang- 
ford's  sufferings  must  be.  It  only  wanted  five  days  to  that 
fixed  for  Mr.  Hamilton's  departure,  wind  permitting ;  and  there 
were  so  many  things  to  think  of  and  do  for  him,  that  his  family 
could  have  little  thought  of  any  thing  else ;  but  Mrs.  Hamilton 
assured  her  husband  she  would  leave  no  means  untried  to  prove 
Robert's  innocence. 

For  nearly  an  hour  that  same  night  did  Ellen,  after  her 
attendant  had  left  her,  sit  crouched  by  the  side  of  her  bed  as 
if  some  bolt  had  struck  and  withered  her  as  she  sat.  One  word 
alone  sounded  and  resounded  in  her  ears ;  she  had  known  it, 
pronounced  it  to  be  such  to  herself  numbers  of  times,  but  it  had 
never  mocked  and  maddened  her  as  when  spoken  in  her  uncle's 
voice,  and  in  his  deepest,  most  expressive  tone  —  "  theft ! "  And 
she  was  the  guilty  one  —  and  she  must  see  the  innocent  bear- 
ing the  penalty  of  her  crime,  suspicion,  dislike,  avoidance,  fcr 
she  dared  not  breathe  the  truth.  Again  came  the  wild,  almost 
desperate,  resolve  to  seek  Mrs.  Hamilton  that  very  moment, 
avow  herself  the  criminal,  implore  her  to  take  back  every 
trinket  belonging  to  her,  tc  replace  it,  and  do  with  her  what  she 
would.  But  if  she  did  confess,  and  so  draw  attention  to  her, 
how  could  she  keep  her  brother's  secret?  Could  she  have  firm- 


£50  HOME   INFLUENCE. 

ness  to  bear  all,  rather  than  betray  it?  What  proof  of  hei 
inwM'd  wretchedness  and  remorse  could  there  be  in  the  mere 
confession  of  appropriation,  when  the  use  to  which  she  had  ap- 
plie  1  that  money  and  all  concerning  it,  even  to  the  day  it  was 
found,  must  be  withheld,  lest  it  should  in  any  way  be  connected 
with  her  letter  to  her  brother.  She  must  be  silent ;  and  the 
only  prayer  which,  night  and  morning,  ay,  almost  every  hour, 
rose  from  that  young  heart,  was  for  death,  ere  it  was  too  late 
for  God's  forgiveness. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE    BROKEN    DESK. 

THE  many  secret  wishes  for  an  unfavorable  wind,  that  Mr. 
Hamilton  might  stay  at  Oakwood  still  a  little  longer,  were  not 
granted,  and  he  left  his  family  the  very  day  he  had  fixed,  the 
14th  of  July,  just  three  weeks  after  his  summon!-!,  and  about 
ten  days  before  his  sons  were  expected  home.  Without  him 
Oakwood  was  strange  indeed,  but  with  the  exception  of  Emme- 
line,  all  seemed  determined  to  conquer  the  sadness  and  anxiety, 
which  the  departure  of  one  so  beloved,  naturally  occasioned. 
Emrncline  was  so  unused  to  any  thing  like  personal  sorrow, 
that  she  rather  seemed  to  luxuriate  in  its  indulgence. 

"  Do  you  wish  to  both  disappoint  and  displease  me,  my  dear 
Emmeline  ?  "  her  mother  said,  one  day,  about  a  week  after  her 
husband  had  gone,  as  she  entered  the  music-room,  expecting  to 
tind  her  daughter  at  the  harp,  but  perceiving  her  instead,  list 
less  and  dispirited,  on  the  sofa.  "  Indeed,  you  will  do  both,  if 
you  give  way  to  this  most  uncalled-for  gloom." 

"  Uncalled  for,"  replied  Emmeline,  almost  pettishly. 

"  Quite  uncalled  for,  to  the  extent  in  which  you  are  indulg 
ing  it;  and  even  if  called  for,  do  you  not  think  you  would  be 
acting  more  correctly,  if  you  thought  more  of  others  than  your- 
self, and  tried  to  become  your  own  cheerful  self  for  their  sakes  ? 
It  is  the  h'rst  time  you  have  ever  given  me  cause  to  suspect 
you  of  selfishness  ;  and  I  am  disappointed." 

"  Selfishness,  mamma ;  and  I  do  hate  the  thought  of  it  so 
Am  I  selfish  ?  "  she  repeated,  her  voice  faltering,  and  her  eyes 
tilling  fast  with  tears. 

"  I  hope   not,  my  love :  but  if  you   do  not  try  to  shake  off 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  2")'l 

fins  depression,  we  must  believe  you  to  be  so.  Yaur  father's 
aba  .Mice  is  a  still  greater  trial  to  Caroline  than  it  is  to  you,  for 
it  compels  a  very  bitter  disappointment,  as  well  as  the  loss  of 
his  society  ;  and  yet,  though  she  feels  both  deeply,  she  has  ex- 
erted herself  more  than  I  ever  saw  her  do  before,  and  so  proves, 
more  than  any  words  or  tears  could  do,  how  much  she  loves 
both  him  and  me." 

"  And  do  you  think  I  love  you  both,  less  than  she  docs  ?  " 
replied  Emmeline,  now  fairly  sobbing. 

"  No,  dearest ;  but  I  want  you  to  prove  it  in  the  same  admi- 
rable manner.  Do  you  think  I  do  not  feel  your  father's  ab- 
sence, Emmeline  ?  but  would  you  like  to  see  me  as  sad  and 
changed  as  you  are  ?  " 

Emmeline  looked  up  in  her  face,  for  there  was  something  in 
the  tone  that  appealed  to  her  better  feelings  at  once.  Throw- 
ing her  arms  round  her,  she  sobbed  — 

"  Dear  mamma,  do  forgive  me.  I  see  now  I  have  been  very 
selfish  and  very  weak,  but  I  never,  never  can  be  as  firm  and 
self-controlled  as  you  and  Caroline  are." 

"  Do  not  say  never,  love,  or  you  will  never  try  to  be  so.  I 
am  quite  sure  you  would  not  like  to  be  one  of  those  weak,  self- 
ish characters,  who  lay  all  their  faults,  and  all  the  mischief 
their  faults  produce,  on  a  supposed  impossibility  to  become  like 
others.  I  know  your  disposition  is  naturally  less  strong  and 
firm  than  your  sister's,  but  it  is  more  elastic,  and  still  more 
joyous ;  and  so  had  you  not  too  weakly  encouraged  your  very 
natural  sorrow,  you  would  have  been  enabled  to  throw  it  off, 
and  in  the  comfort  such  an  exertion  would  have  brought  to  us, 
fully  recompensed  yourself." 

"  And  if  I  do  try  now  ?  " 

"  I  shall  be  quite  satisfied,  dearest  ;  though  I  fear  you  will 
find  it  more  difficult  than  had  you  tried  a  few  days  ago.  Con- 
fess that  I  am  right.  Did  you  not,  after  the  first  two  or  three 
days,  feel  that  you  could  have  been  che'erful  again,  at  least  at 
times,  but  thai  you  fancied  you  had  not  felt  sorry  enough,  and 
so  increased  both  sorrow  and  anxiety  by  determinedly  dwell- 
ing on  them,  instead  of  seeking  some  pursuit  ?  " 

"  Dear  mamma,  shall  I  never  be  able  to  hide  a  feeling  from 
you  ?  "  answered  Emmeline,  so  astonished,  that  her  tears  half 
iriea.  "  I  did  not  know  I  felt  so  myself  till  you  put  it  before 
me,  and  now  I  know  that  I  really  did.  Was  it  very  wrong  ?  " 

"  I  will  answer  your  question  by  another,  love.  Did  you 
find  such  pertinacious  indulgence  of  gloom  help  you  to  bring 
the  object  of  your  regret  and  anxiety,  and  of  your  own  grief, 
before  your  Heavenly  Father  ?  " 


252  HOME  INFLUENCE. 

Emmeline  hesitated,  but  only  for  a  minute,  then  answered, 
with  a  crimson  blush  — 

"  No,  mamma ;  I  could  not  pray  to  God  to  protect  deal 
papi,  or  to  give  me  His  blessing,  half  as  earnestly  and  believ- 
ingly  as  when  I  was  happier ;  the  more  I  indulged  in  gloomy 
thoughts,  the  more  difficulty  I  had  to  turn  them  to  prayer,  and 
the  last  few  days,  I  fear,  I  have  not  even  tried." 

"  Then,  dearest,  is  it  necessary  for  me  to  answer  your  former 
question  ?  I  see  by  that  conscious  look  that  it  is  not.  You  have 
always  trusted  my  experience  and  affection,  my  Emmeline, 
trust  them  now,  and  try  my  plan.  Think  of  your  dear  father, 
whom  you  cannot  love  too  well,  or  whose  compelled  absence 
really  regret  too  much  ;  but  so  think  of  him,  as  to  pray  conti- 
nually in  spirit  to  your  gracious  God,  to  have  him  always  in 
His  holy  keeping,  either  on  sea  or  land,  in  storm  or  calm,  and 
so  prosper  his  undertaking,  as  to  permit  his  return  to  us  still 
sooner  than  we  at  present  expect.  The  very  constant  prayer 
for  this,  will  make  you  rest  secure  and  happy  in  the  belief  that 
cur  God  is  with  him  wherever  he  is,  as  He  is  with  us,  and  so 
give  you  cheerfulness  and  courage  to  attend  to  your  daily  duties, 
and  conquer  any  thing  like  too  selfish  sorrow.  Will  you  try 
this,  love,  even  if  it  be  more  difficult  now  than  it  would  have 
been  a  few  days  ago  ?  " 

"  I  will  indeed,  mamma,"  and  she  raised  her  head  from  her 
mother's  shoulder,  and  tried  to  smile.  "  When  you  first  ad- 
dressed me  to-day,  I  thought  you  were  almost  harsh,  and  so 
cold  —  so  you  see  even  there  I  was  thinking  wrong  —  and  now 
I  am  glad,  oh,  so  glad,  you  did  speak  to  me ! " 

"And  I  know  who  will  be  glad  too,  if  I  have  prevented  his 
having  a  Niobe  for  his  Tiny,  instead  of  the  Euphrosyne,  which 
I  believe  he  sometimes  calls  you.  I  thought  there  was  one  par- 
ticular duet  that  Percy  is  to  be  so  charmed  with,  Emmy.  Sup- 
pose you  try  it  now."  And,  her  tears  all  checked,  her  most 
unusual  gloom  dispersed,  Emmeline  obeyed  with  alacrity,  and 
finding,  when  she  had  once  begun,  so  many  things  to  get  perfect 
for  the  gratification  of  her  brothers,  that  nearly  three  hours 
slipped  away  quite  unconsciously  ;  and  when  Caroline  returned 
from  a  walk,  she  was  astonished  at  the  change  in  her  sister,  and 
touched  by  the  affectionate  seh-rcproaeh  with  which  Emmeline, 
looking  up  in  her  face,  exclaimed  — 

"  Dear  Caroline,  I  have  been  so  pettish  and  so  cross  to  you 
since  papa  left,  that  I  am  sure  you  must  be  quite  tired  of  me  ; 
but  I  am  going  tc  be  really  a  heroine  now,  and  not  a  sham 
sentimental  one  and  bear  the  pain  of  pupa's  absence  as  bravely 
as  vou  do." 


HOME   INFLUENCE.    '  253 

And  slie  did  so ;  though  at  first  it  was,  as  her  molner  had 
warned  her,  very  difficult  to  compel  the  requisite  exertion, 
which  for  employment  and  cheerfulness,  was  now  needed ;  but 
when  the  will  is  right,  there  is  little  fear  of  failure. 

As  each  day  passed,  so  quickly  merging  into  weeks,  that  five 
had  now  slipped  away  since  that  fatal  letter  had  been  sent  to 
Edward,  the  difficulty  to  do  as  she  had  intended,  entreat  Mrs. 
Langford  to  dispose  of  her  trinkets  and  watch,  became  to  Ellen, 
either  in  reality  or  seeming,  more  and  more  difficult.  Her 
illness  had  confined  her  to  her  room  for  nearly  a  week,  and 
when  she  was  allowed  to  take  the  air,  the  state  of  nervous  de- 
bility to  which  it  had  reduced  her,  of  course  prevented  her  ever 
being  left  alone.  The  day  after  Mr.  Hamilton's  appeal  to  his 
domestics,  she  had  made  a  desperate  attempt,  by  asking  per- 
mission to  be  the  bearer  of  a  message  from  her  aunt  to  the 
widow  ;  and  as  the  girls  were  often  allowed  and  encouraged  to 
visit  their  nurse,  the  request  was  granted  without  any  surprise, 
though  to  the  very  last  moment  she  feared  one  of  her  cousins 
or  Miss  Harcourt  Avould  offer  to  accompany  her.  They  were 
all,  however,  too  occupied  with  and  for  Mr.  Hamilton,  and  she 
sought  the  cottage,  and  there,  with  such  very  evident  mental 
agony,  besought  Mrs.  Langford  to  promise  her  secrecy  and  aid, 
that  the  widow,  very  much  against  her  conscience,  was  won  over 
to  accede.  She  was  in  most  pressing  want  of  money,  she  urged, 
and  dared  not  appeal  to  her  aunt.  Not  daring  to  say  the  whole 
amount  which  she  so  urgently  required  at  once,  she  had  only 
brought  with  her  the  antique  gold  cross  and  two  or  three  smaller 
ornaments,  which  had  been  among  her  mother's  trinkets,  and  a 
gold  locket  Percy  had  given  her.  Mrs.  Langford  was  painfully 
startled.  She  had  no  idea  her  promise  comprised  acquiescence 
and  assistance  in  any  matter  so  very  wrong  and  mysterious  as 
this  ;  and  she  tried  every  argument,  every  persuasion,  to  prevail 
on  Ellen  to  confide  all  her  difficulties  to  Mrs.  Hamilton,  urging 
that  if  even  she  had  done  wrong,  it  could  only  call  for  tempo- 
rary displeasure,  whereas  the  mischief  of  her  present  proceed- 
ing might  never  come  to  an  end,  and  must  be  discovered  at  last; 
but  Ellen  was  inexorable,  though  evidently  quite  as  miserable 
as  she  was  firm,  and  Mrs.  Langford  had  too  high  an  idea  of  the 
solemn  nature  of  a  pledged  word  to  draw  back,  or  think  of 
betraying  her.  She  said  that,  of  course,  it  might  be  some  weeks 
before  she  could  succeed  in  disposing  of  them  all ;  as  to  offer 
them  all  together,  or  even  at  one  place,  woull  be  exposing  hev- 
lelf  to  the  most  unpleasant  suspicions. 


254  HOME   INFLUENCE. 

One  step  WHS  llius  gained,  but  nearly  a  fortnight  had  passed 
Bnd  she  heard  nothing  from  the  widow. 

""Will  they  never  come?"  exclaimed  Emmeline,  in  mirthful 
impatience,  one  evening,  about  four  days  after  her  conversation 
with  her  mother;  "it  must  be  past  the  hour  Percy  named." 

"  It  still  wants  half  an  hour,"  replied  Mrs.  Hamilton ;  add- 
ing, "  that  unfortunate  drawing,  when  will  it  succeed  in  ob- 
taining your  undivided  attention?" 

"  Certainly  not  this  evening,  mamma ;  the  only  drawing  I 
i'cel  inclined  for,  is  a  sketch  of  my  two  brothers,  if  they  would 
i.nly  have  the  kindness  to  sit  by  me." 

"  Poor  Percy,"  observed  Caroline,  dryly ;  "  if  you  are  to  be 
as  restless  as  you  have  been  the  last  hour,  Emmeline,  he  would 
not  be  very  much  Mattered  by  his  portrait." 

"Now  that  is  very  spiteful  of  you,  Caroline,  and  all  because 
I  do  not  happen  to  be  so  quiet  and  sober  as  you  are ;  though  I 
am  sure  all  this  morning,  that  mamma  thought  by  your  unusu- 
ally long  absence  that  you  were  having  a  most  persevering 
practice,  you  were  only  collecting  all  Percy's  and  Herbert's 
favorite  songs  and  pieces,  and  playing  them  over,  instead  of 
your  new  music." 

"And  what  if  I  did,  Emmeline?" 

"Why,  it  only  proves  that  your  thoughts  are  quite  as  much 
occupied  by  them  as  mine  are,  though  you  have  so  disagreeably 
read,  studied,  worked,  just  as  usual,  to  make  one  believe  you 
neither  thought  nor  cared  any  thing  about  them." 

"And  so,  because  Caroline  can  control  even  joyous  anticipa- 
tion, she  is  to  be  thought  void  of  feeling,  Emmy.  I  really  can 
pronounce  no  such  judgment ;  so,  though  she  may  have  settled 
to  her  usual  pursuits,  and  you  have  literally  done  nothing  at  all 
to-day,  I  will  not  condemn  her  as  loving  her  brothers  less." 

"  But  you  will  condemn  me  as  an  idle,  unsteady,  hair-brained 
girl,"  replied  Emmeline,  kneeling  on  the  ottoman  at  her  mother's 
feet,  and  looking  archly  and  fondly  in  her  face.  Then  do  let 
me  have  a  fellow-sufferer,  for  I  cannot  stand  condemnation 
alone.  Ellen,  do  put  away  that  everlasting  sketch,  and  be  idle 
and  unsteady,  too ! " 

"  It  won't  do,  Emmy ;  Ellen  has  been  so  perseveringly  in- 
dustrious since  her  illness,  that  I  should  rather  condemn  her  for 
too  much  application  than  too  great  idleness.  But  you  really 
have  been  stooping  too  long  this  warm  evening,  my  love,"  she 
added,  observing,  as  Ellen,  it  seemed  almost  involuntarily, 
looked  up  at  her  cousin's  words,  that  her  cheeks  were  Hushed 
almost  painfully.  "Oblige  Emmeline  this  once,  fnd  be  as  idle 


HOME    INFLUENCE.  25& 

us  she  is:  come  and  talk  to  me,  I  have  scarcely  heard  a  word 
from  yo  i  to-day;  you  have  been  more  silent  than  ever,  I  think, 
since  your  uncle  left  us ;  but  I  must  have  no  gloom  to  greet 
your  cousins,  Ellen." 

There  was  no  rejoinder  to  these  kind  and  playful  words. 
Ellen  diu  indeed  put  aside  her  drawing,  but  instead  of  taking  a 
teat  near  her  aunt,  which  in  former  days  she  would  have  been 
only  too  happy  to  do,  she  walked  to  the  farthest  window,  and 
ensconcing  herself  in  its  deep  recess,  seemed  determined  to  hold 
communion  with  no  one.  Miss  Ilarcourt  was  so  indignant  as 
scarcely  to  be  able  to  contain  its  expression.  Caroline  looked 
astonished  and  provoked.  Emmeline  was  much  too  busy  in 
flying  from  window  to  window,  to  think  of  any  thing  else  but 
her  brothers.  Mrs.  Hamilton  was  more  grieved  and  hurt  than 
Ellen  had  scarcely  ever  made  her  feel.  Several  times  before,  in 
the  last  month,  she  had  fancied  there  was  something  unusual  in 
her  manner;  but  the  many  anxieties  and  thoughts  which  had 
engrossed  her  since  her  husband's  summons  and  his  departure, 
had  prevented  any  thing,  till  that  evening,  but  momentary  sur- 
prise. Emmeline's  exclamation  that  she  was  quite  sure  she 
heard  the  trampling  of  horses,  and  that  it  must  be  Percy,  by 
the  headlong  way  he  rode,  prevented  any  remark,  and  brought 
them  all  to  the  window  ;  and  she  was  right,  for  in  a  few  minutes 
a  horseman  emerged  from  some  distant  trees,  urging  his  horse, 
to  its  utmost  speed,  waving  his  cap  in  all  sorts  of  mirthful  gesti- 
culation over  his  head,  long  before  he  could  be  quite  sure  that 
there  was  anybody  to  see  him.  Another  minute,  and  he  had 
flung  the  reins  to  Robert,  with  a  laughing  greeting,  and  spring- 
ing up  the  long  flight  of  steps  in  two  bounds,  was  in  the  sitting- 
room  and  in  the  arms  of  his  mother,  before  either  of  his  family 
imagined  he  could  have  had  even  time  to  dismount. 

"  Herbert  ?  "  was  the  first  word  Mrs.  Hamilton's  quivering  lip 
could  speak. 

"  Is  quite  well,  my  dearest  mother,  and  not  five  minutes'  ride 
behind  me.  The  villagers  would  flock  round  us,  with  such  an 
hurrah,  I  thought  you  must  have  heard  it  here  ;  sol  left  Bertie 
to  play  the  agreeable,  and  promised  to  see  them  to-morrow, 
and  galloped  on  here,  for  you  know  the  day  we  left,  I  vowed 
ihat  the  first-born  of  my  mother  should  have  her  first  kiss." 

"Still  the  same,  Percy  —  not  sobered  yet,  my  boy?"  said  his 
mother,  looking  at  him  with  a  proud  smile  ;  for  while  the  tone 
and  manner  wrere  still  the  eager,  fresh-feeling  boy,  the  face  and 
ngure  were  that  of  the  line-growing,  noble-looking  man. 

"  Sobered  !  why,  mother,  I  never  inter  d  to  be,"  he  answered. 


2~)j  HOME   INFLUENCE. 

joyously  as  he  alternately  embraced  his  sisters,  Miss  Harcourt. 
mul  Ellen,  who,  fearing  to  attract  notice,  had  emerged  from  her 
hiding-place;  "if  the  venerable  towers  of  that  most  wise  and 
learned  town,  Oxford,  and  all  the  grave  lectures  and  long  faces 
of  sage  professors  have  failed  to  tame  me,  there  can  be  no  hope 
for  my  sobriety ;  but  here  comes  Herbert,  actually  going  it 
almost  as  fast  as  I  did.  Well  done,  my  boy !  Mother,  thai 
is  all  your  doing ;  he  feels  your  influence  at  this  distance. 
Why,  all  the  Oxonians  would  fancy  the  colleges  must  be  tum- 
bling about  their  ears,  if  they  saw  the  gentle,  studious,  steady 
Herbert  Hamilton  riding  at  such  a  rate."  He  entered  almost 
as  his  brother  spoke ;  .and  though  less  boisterous,  the  intense 
delight  it  was  to  him  to  look  in  his  mother's  face  again,  to  be 
surrounded  by  all  he  loved,  was  as  visible  as  Percy's ;  and 
deep  was  the  thankfulness  of  Mrs.  Hamilton's  ever  anxious 
heart,  as  she  saw  him  looking  so  well  —  so  much  stronger  than 
in  his  boyhood.  The  joy  of  that  evening,  and  of  very  many 
succeeding  days,  Avas,  indeed,  great ;  though  many  to  whom 
the  sanctity  and  bliss  of  domestic  affection  are  unknown,  might 
fancy  there  was  little  to  call  for  it;  but  to  the  inmates  of  Oak- 
wood  it  was  real  happiness  to  hear  Percy's  wild  laugh  and  his 
inexhaustible  stories,  calling  forth  the  same  mirth  from  hie 
hearers  —  the  very  sound  of  his  ever-bounding  step,  and  his 
ooisterous  career  from  room  -to  room,  to  visit,  he  declared,  and 
rouse  all  the  bogies  and  spirits  that  must  have  slept  while  he 
was  away :  Herbert's  quieter  but  equal  interest  in  all  that  had 
been  done,  studied,  read,  even  thought  and  felt,  in  his  absence: 
the  pride  and  delight  of  both  in  the  accounts  of  Edward,  Percy 
insisting  that  to  have  such  a  gallant  fellow  of  a  brother  ought 
to  make  Ellen  as  lively  and  happy  as  Emmeline,  who  was 
blessed  nearly  in  the  same  measure  —  looking  so  excessively 
mischievous  as  he  spoke,  that,  though  his  sister  did  not  at  first 
understand  the  inference,  it  was  speedily  discovered,  and  called 
for  a  laughing  attack  on  his  outrageous  self-conceit.  Herbert 
more  earnestly  regretted  to  see  Ellen  looking  as  sad  and  pale 
as  when  she  was  quite  a  little  girl,  and  took  upon  himself 
gently  to  reproach  her  for  not  being,  or,  at  least,  trying  to  make 
herself  more  cheerful,  when  she  had  so  many  blessings  around 
her,  and  was  so  superlatively  happy  in  having  such  a  brave 
•tnd  noble-hearted  brother.  If  he  did  not  understand  her  man- 
ner as  he  spoke,  both  he  and  the  less  observant  Percy  were 
'Je.stined  to  be  still  more  puzzled  and  grieved  as  a  few  weeks 
passed,  and  they  at  Srst  fancied  and  then  were  quite  sure  thai 
she  was  comp'ctcly  altered,  even  in  her  manner  to  their  mother 


HOME  INFLUENCE.  257 

Insttad  of  being  so  gentle,  so  submissive,  so  quietly  happy  to 
reserve  the  smallest  sign  of  approval  from  Mrs.  Hamilton,  she 
now  seemed  completely  to  shrink  from  her,  either  in  fear,  or 
that  she  no  longer  cared  either  to  please  or  to  obey  her.  By 
imperceptible,  but  sure  degrees,  this  painful  conviction  pressed 
itself  en  the  minds  of  the  whole  party,  even  to  the  light-hearted, 
unsuspicious  Emmeline,  to  whom  it  was  so  utterly  incompre- 
hensible, that  she  declared  it  must  be  all  fancy,  and  that  they 
were  all  so  happy  that  their  heads  must  be  a  little  turned. 

"  Even  mamma's  ! "  observed  Caroline,  dryly. 

"  No ;  but  she  is  the  only  sensible  person  among  us,  for  she 
has  not  said  any  thing  about  it,  and,  therefore,  I  dare  say  dees 
not  even  see  that  which  we  are  making  such  a  wonder  about." 

"  I  do  not  agree  writh  you,  for  I  rather  think  she  has  both 
seen  and  felt  it  before  either  of  us,  and  that  because  it  so 
grieves  and  perplexes  her,  she  cannot  speculate  or  even  speak 
about  it  as  we  do.  Time  will  explain  it,  I  suppose,  but  it  is 
very  disagreeable." 

It  was,  indeed,  no  fancy;  but  little  could  these  young  ob- 
servers, or  even  Mrs.  Hamilton,  suspect  that  which  was  matter 
of  speculation  or  grief  to  them,  was  almost  madness  in  its  agony 
of  torture  to  Ellen  ;  who,  as  weeks  passed,  and  but  very  trifling 
returns  for  her  trinkets  were  made  her  by  Mrs.  Langford,  felt 
as  if  her  brain  must  fail  before  she  could  indeed  accomplish  her 
still  ardently  desired  plan,  and  give  back  the  missing  sum  to 
Robert,  without  calling  suspicion  on  herself.  She  felt  to  her- 
self as  changed  as  she  appeared  to  those  that  observed  her ;  a 
black  impenetrable  pall  seemed  to  have  enveloped  her  heart 
and  mind,  closing  up  both,  even  from  those  affections,  those 
pursuits,  so  dear  to  her  before.  She  longed  for  some  change 
from  the  dense  impenetrable  fog,  even  if  it  were  some  heavy 
blow  —  tangible  suffering  of  the  fiercest  kind  was  prayed  for, 
rather  than  the  stagnation  which  caused  her  to  move,  act,  and 
speak  as  if  under  some  fatal  spell,  and  look  with  such  terror  on 
the  relation  she  had  so  loved,  that  even  to  be  banished  from 
her  presence  she  imagined  would  be  less  agony,  than  to  asso- 
ciate with  her,  as  the  miserable,  guilty  being  she  had  become. 

Mrs.  Hamilton  watched  and  was  anxious,  but  she  kept  both 
her  observations  and  anxiety  to  herself,  for  she  would  not  throw 
even  a  temporary  cloud  over  the  happiness  of  her  children.  A 
fortnight  after  the  young  men's  arrival,  letters  came  most  unex- 
pectedly from  Mr.  Hamilton,  dated  twelve  days  after  he  had 
left,  and  brought  by  a  Scottish  trader  whom  they  had  encoun- 
tered near  the  Shetland  Isles,  and  who  had  faithfully  forwarded 


258  HOMK   INFLUENCE. 

then,  from  Edinburgh,  as  he  had  promised.  The  voyage  had 
been  most  delightful,  and  they  hoped  to  reach  Feroe  in  another 
week,  lie  wrote  in  the  highest  terms  of  Morton ;  the  comfort 
of  such  companionship,  and  the  intrinsic  worth  of  his  character, 
which  could  never  be  known,  until  so  closely  thrown  together. 

"  I  may  thank  our  Percy  for  this  excellent  friend,"  he  wrote. 
"  He  tells  me  his  brave  and  honest  avowal  of  those  verses, 
which  had  given  him  so  much  pain,  attracted  him  more  toward 
me  and  mine,  than  even  my  own  efforts  to  obtain  his  friendship. 
Percy  little  thought  when  he  so  conquered  himself  the  help  he 
would  give  his  father  —  so  little  do  we  know  to  what  hidden 
good,  the  straightforward,  honest  performance  of  a  duty,  how- 
ever painful,  may  lead." 

"  My  father  should  thank  you,  mother,  not  me,"  was  Percy's 
rejoinder,  with  a  flushed  cheek  and  eye  sparkling  writh  anima- 
tion, as  his  mother  read  the  passage  to  him. 

"  Xo  such  thing,  Percy ;  I  will  not  have  you  give  me  all  the 
merit  of  your  good  deeds.  I  did  but  try  to  guide  you,  my  boy ; 
neither  the  disposition  to  receive,  nor  the  fruit  springing  from 
the  seeds  I  planted,  is  from  me." 

"  They  are,  mother,  more  than  you  are  in  the  least  awaro 
of!  "  replied,  he,  with  even  more  than  his  usual  impetuosity, 
for  they  happened  to  be  quite  alone  ;  "  I  thought  I  knew  all 
your  worth  before  I  went  to  Oxford,  but  I  have  mingled  with 
the  world  now  ;  I  have  been  a  silent  listener  and  observer  of 
such  sentiments,  such  actions,  as  I  know  would  naturally  havo 
been  mine,  and  though  in  themselves  perhaps  of  little  moment, 
saw  they  led  to  irregularity,  laxity  of  principle  and  conduct 
which  wow  I  cannot  feel  as  other  than  actual  guilt;  and  \vhal 
saved  me  from  the  same  ?  The  principle  which  from  my  in- 
fancy you  taught.  I  have  questioned,  led  on  in  conversation 
these  young  men  to  speak  of  their  boyhood  ard  their  homes, 
and  there  were  none  guided,  loved  as  I  was  ;  -lone  whose  pa- 
rents had  so  blended  firmness  with  indulgence,  as  while  my 
wild,  free  spirits  were  unchecked,  prevented  the  ascendency  of 
evil.  I  could  not  do  as  they  did.  Mother!  love  vow  more 
perhaps,  I  cannot,  but  every  time  I  join  the  world,  fresh  from 
this  home  sanctuary,  I  must  bless  and  venerate  you  more  !  To 
walk  through  this  world  with  any  degree  of  security,  man  must 
havs  principle  based  on  the  highest  source;  and  that  principle 
«vn  only  be  instilled  by  the  constant  example  of  a  mother  and 
the  associations  of  a  home  ! "  Mrs.  Hamilton  could  not  an- 
Bwer,  but  —  a  very  unusual  sign  of  weakness  with  her — tears 
of  lie  most  intense  happiness  poured  down  on  the  cheek  of  hei 


HOME    INFLUENCE.  259 

\oi .  as  in  his  impetuosity  he  knelt  before  her,  and  ended  his; 
very  unusually  grave  appeal  by  the  same  loving  caresses  he 
was  wont  to  lavish  on  her,  in  his  infancy  and  boyhood. 

The  letters  from  Mr.  Hamilton,  of  course,  greatly  increased 
the  general  hilarity,  and  the  arrival  of  Mr.  Grahame's  family 
about  the  same  time,  added  fresh  zest  to  youthful  enjoyment. 
In  the  few  months  she  spent  at  Moorlands,  Annie  actually  con- 
descended to  be  agreeeble.  Percy,  and  some  of  Percy's  boy 
ish  friends,  now  young  men,  as  himself,  were  quite  different  to 
her  usual  society,  and  as  she  very  well  knew  the  only  way  to 
win  Percy's  even  casual  notice  was  to  throw  off  her  affectation 
and  superciliousness  as  much  as  possible,  she  would  do  so,  and 
be  pleasing  to  an  extent  that  surprised  Mrs.  Hamilton,  who, 
always  inclined  to  judge  kindly,  hoped  more  regarding  Annie 
than  she  had  done  yet.  Little  could  her  pure  mind  conceive 
that,  in  addition  to  the  pleasure  of  flirting  with  Percy,  Annie 
acted  in  this  manner  actually  to  throw  her  off  her  guard,  and  so 
give  her  a  wider  field  for  her  machinations  when  Caroline 
should  enter  the  London  world ;  a  time  to  which,  from  hei 
thirteenth  year,  she  had  secretly  looked  as  the  opportunity  to 
make  Caroline  so  conduct  herself,  as  to  cover  her  mother  with 
shame  and  misery,  and  bring  her  fine  plans  of  education  to 
failure  and  contempt. 

Mrs.  Greville  and  Mary  were  also  constantly  at  the  Hall,  or 
having  their  friends  with  them  ;  Herbert  and  Mary  advancing 
in  words  or  feelings  not  much  farther  than  they  had  ever  done 
as  boy  and  girl,  but  still  feeling  and  acknowledging  to  their 
mutual  mothers  that,  next  to  them,  they  loved  each  other  bettei 
than  all  the  world,  and  enjoyed,  each  other's  society  more  than 
any  other  pleasure  which  life  could  offer.  Excursions  by  land 
or  water,  sometimes  on  horseback,  sometimes  in  the  carriages, 
constant  little  family  reunions,  either  at  Oakwood,  Moorlands, 
or  Greville  Manor,  passed  days  and  evenings  most  delightfully, 
to  all  but  Ellen,  who  did  not  dare  stay  at  home  as  often  as  in- 
clination prompted,  and  whose  forced  gayety,  when  in  society^ 
did  but  increase  the  inward  torture  when  alone.  Mrs.  Hamil- 
ton had  as  yet  refrained  from  speaking  to  her —  still  trying  to 
believe  she  must  be  mistaken,  and  there  really  was  nothing 
strange  about  her.  One  morning,  however,  about  a  month 
after  the  young  men  had  been  at  home,  her  attention  was  un- 
avoidably arrested  by  hearing  Percy  gayly  ask  his  cousin  — 

"Nelly,  Tiny  wrote  me  such  a  description  of  your  birthday 
watch,  that  I  quite  forgot,  I  have  been  dying  to  see  it  all  the 
time  I  have  been  at  home;  show  it  me  now,  there's  a  dear;  il 


^0  HOME    INFLUKNCK. 

cannot  be  much  use  to  you,  that's  certain,  for  I  have  nev  tr  scei, 
you  tali  t:  it  from  its  hiding-place." 

Ellen  answered,  almost  inarticulately,  it  was  not  in  her  power 
to  show  it  him. 

"Not  in  your  power!  You  must  be  dreaming,  Nell,  as  I  think 
)ou  are  very  often  now.  Why,  what  do  you  wear  that  chain, 
and  seal  and  key  for,  if  you  have  not  your  watch  on  too?" 

"  Where  is  your  watch,  Ellen  ?  and  why,  if  you  are  not  wear- 
ing it,  do  you  make  us  suppose  you  are?"  interrupted  Mrs. 
Hamilton,  startled  out  of  all  idea  that  Ellen  was  changed  only 
in  fancy. 

Ellen  was  silent,  and  to  Percy's  imagination,  so  sullenly  and 
insolently  so,  that  he  became  indignant. 

"  Did  you  hear  my  mother  speak  to  you,  Ellen  ?  AVhy  don't 
you  answer?" 

"Because  I  thought  my  watch  was  my  own  to  do  what  I 
liked  with,  to  wear  or  to  put  away,"  was  the  reply ;  over  nei- 
ther words  nor  tone  of  which,  had  she  at  that  moment  any  con- 
trol, for  in  her  agonized  terror,  she  did  not  in  the  least  know 
what  she  said. 

"How  dare  you  answer  so,  Ellen?  Leave  the  room,  or  ask 
my  mother's  pardon  at  once,"  replied  Percy,  his  eyes  flashing 
with  such  unusual  anger,  that  it  terrified  her  still  more,  and 
under  the  same  kind  of  spell  she  was  turning  to  obey  him,  with- 
out attempting  the  apology  he  demanded. 

"  Stay,  Ellen ;  this  extraordinary  conduct  must  not  go  on  any 
longer  without  notice  on  my  part.  I  have  borne  with  it,  I  fear, 
too  long  already.  Leave  us,  my  dear  Percy ;  I  would  rather 
-;peak  with  your  cousin  alone." 

"  I  fear  it  will  be  useless,  mother ;  what  has  come  over  Ellen 
I  cannot  imagine,  but  I  never  saw  such  an  incomprehensible 
change  in  my  life." 

He  departed,  unconscious  that  Ellen,  who  was  near  the  door 
transfixed  at  her  aunt's  words,  made  a  rapid  movement  as  to 
patch  hold  of  his  arm,  and  that  the  words,  "  Do  not  go,  Percy, 
for  pity's  sake!"  trembled  on  her  pale  lips,  but  they  emitted  no 
sound. 

What  passed  in  the  interview,  which  lasted  more  than  an 
hour,  no  one  knew;  but  to  the  watchful  eyes  of  her  affectionate 
children,  there  were  traces  of  very  unusual  disturbance  on  Mrs. 
Hamilton's  expressive  countenance  when  she  rejoined  them ; 
rtnd  the  dark  rim  round  Ellen's  eyes,  the  deadly  pallor  of  her 
cheeks  and  lips  seemed  to  denote  that  it  had  not  been  deficient 
in  snflfer'Tig  to  her;  though  not  one  sign  of  penitence,  one  worH 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  261 

jf  acknowledgment  that  she  was,  and  had  been  for  some  weeks 
in  trror,  by  her  extraordinary  conduct  —  not  even  a  softening 
tear  could  her  aunt  elicit.  She  had  never  before  so  failed  — 
never,  not  even  when  the  disappearance  of  her  allowance  had 
caused '  extreme  displeasure,  had  Ellen  evinced  such  an  ap- 
parently sullen  spirit  of  determined  hardihood.  She  would  not 
attempt  defence  or  reply  to  the  acted  falsehood  with  which  she 
was  charged,  of  appearing  to  wear  her  watch  when  she  did  not, 
•>r  to  say  what  she  had  done  with  it.  Mrs.  Hamilton  spoke  to 
her  till  she  was  almost  exhausted,  for  her  own  disappointment 
was  most  painful,  and  she  had  not  a  gleam  of  hope  to  urge  her 
on.  Her  concluding  words  were  these  — 

"That  you  are  under  the  evil  influence  of  some  unconfessed 
and  most  heinous  fault,  Ellen,  I  am  perfectly  convinced;  what 
it  is  time  will  reveal.  I  give  you  one  month  to  decide  on  your 
course  of  action ;  subdue  this  sullen  spirit,  confess  whatever 
error  you  may  have  been  led  into,  and  so  change  your  conduct 
as  to  be  again  the  child  I  so  loved,  spite  of  occasional  faults  and 
errors,  and  I  will  pardon  all  that  is  past.  If,  at  the  end  of  a 
month,  I  find  you  persisting  in  the  same  course  of  rebellion  and 
defiance,  regardless  alike  of  your  duty  to  your  God  and  to  me,  I 
shall  adopt  some  measures  to  compel  submission.  I  had  hoped 
to  bring  up  all  my  children  under  my  own  eye,  and  by  my  own 
efforts ;  but  if  I  am  not  permitted  so  to  do,  I  know  my  duty  too 
well  to  shrink  from  the  alternative.  You  will  not  longer  remain 
under  my  care ;  some  severer  guardian  and  more  rigid  discipline 
may  bring  you  to  a  sense  of  your  duty.  I  advise  you  to  think 
well  on  this  subject,  Ellen ;  you  know  me  too  well,  I  think,  to 
imagine  that  I  speak  in  mere  jest." 

She  had  left  the  room  as  she  spoke,  so,  that  if  Ellen  had  in- 
tended reply,  there  was  no  time  for  it.  But  she  could  not  have 
spoken.  Go  from  Oakwood,  and  in  anger  !  Yet  it  was  but  just ; 
it  was  better,  perhaps,  than  the  lingering  torture  she  was  then 
enduring  —  better  to  hide  her  shame  and  misery  among  strangers, 
than  remain  among  the  good,  the  happy  —  the  guilty  wretch  she 
was.  She  sat  and  thought  till  feeling  itself  became  utterly  ex- 
'musted,  and  again  the  spell,  the  stupor  of  indifference,  crept 
over  her.  She  would  have  confessed,  but  she  knew  that  it  could 
never  satisfy,  as  the  half  confession  she  would  have  been  com- 
pelled to  make  it,  and  the  dread  of  herself,  that  she  should 
betray  her  brother,  sealed  her  lips. 

Robert's  story,  and  the  strange  disappearance  of  the  notes, 
nad  of  course  been  imparted  to  Percy  and  Herbert.  In  fart, 
the  change  in  the  young  man,  from  being  as  light-hearted  as  his 


HOME   INFLUENCE. 

young  master  himself,  to  gravity  and  almost  gloom  —  for  '.lie 
conviction  of  his  master  and  mistress,  as  to  his  innocence,  cc  jld 
not  cheer  him,  while  suspicion  against  him  still  actuated  Morris, 
and  many  of  the  other  servants  —  would  have  called  the  young 
men's  attention  toward  him  at  once.  The  various  paths  and 
glades  between  the  Hall  and  Mrs.  Langford's  cottage  had  been 
so  searched,  that  unless  the  storm  had  destroyed  them  or  blown 
the  notes  very  far  away,  it  seemed  next  to  impossible,  that  they 
could  not  be  found.  Mr.  Hamilton  knew  the  number  of  each 
note,  had  told  them  to  his  wife,  and  gave  notice  at  his  banker's 
that  though  lie  did  not  wish  them  stopped,  he  should  like  to 
know,  if  possible,  when  they  had  passed.  No  notice  of  such  a 
thing  had  been  sent  to  Oakwood,  and  it  seemed  curious  that,  if 
found  and  appropriated,  they  should  not  yet  have  been  used,  for 
fen  weeks  had  now  slipped  away  since  their  loss,  and  nearly 
nine  since  the  letters  had  been  sent  to  Edward  and  his  captain, 
answers  to  which  had  not  yet  been  received ;  but  that  was 
nothing  remarkable,  for  Edward  seldom  wrote  above  once  in 
(hree  or  four  months. 

It  was  nearing  the  end  of  August,  when  one  afternoon  Mrs. 
Hamilton  was  prevented  joining  her  children  in  a  sail  up  the 
Dart,  though  it  had  been  a  long  promise,  and  Percy  was,  in 
consequence,  excessively  indignant ;  but  certain  matters  relative 
to  the  steward's  province  demanded  a  reference  to  his  mistress, 
and  Morris  was  compelled  to  request  a  longer  interview  than 
usual.  Ellen  had  chosen  to  join  the  aquatic  party,  a  decision 
now  so  contrary  to  her  usual  habits,  that  Mrs.  Hamilton  could 
not  help  fancying  it  was  to  prevent  the  chance  of  being  any 
time  alone  with  her.  There  had  been  no  change  in  her  man- 
ner, except  a  degree  more  care  to  control  the  disrespectful  or 
pettish  answer ;  but  nothing  to  give  hope  that  the  spirit  was 
Changing,  and  that  the  hidden  error,  whatever  it  might  be, 
would  be  acknowledged  and  atoned.  Mrs.  Hamilton  was  nerv- 
ing her  own  mind  for  the  performance  of  the  alternative  she 
had  placed  before  her  niece,  passing  many  a  sleepless  night 
in  painful  meditations.  If  to  send  her  from  Oakwood  were 
necessary,  would  it  produce  the  effect  she  wished  ?  with  whom 
could  she  place  her  ?  and  what  satisfactory  reason  could  she 
assign  for  doing  so  ?  She  knew  there  would  be  a  hundred 
tongues  to  cry  shame  on  her  for  sending  her  orphan  niece  from 
her  roof,  but  that  was  but  one  scarcely-tasted  bitter  drop  in  the 
many  other  sources  of  anxiety.  But  still  these  were  bit  her 
nightly  sorrows  ;  she  might  have  been  paler  when  she  rose,  but 
••-bough  her  children  felt  quite  sure  that  Ellen  was  grieving  her 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  263 

exceedingly,  her  cheerful  sympathy  in  their  enjoyments  and 
pursuits  nevei  waned  for  a  moment. 

Morris  left  her  at  six  o'clock,  all  his  business  so  satisfactorily 
accomplished,  that  the  old  man  was  quite  happy,  declaring  to 
Ellis,  he  had  always  thought  his  mistress  unlike  any  one  else 
before  ;  but  such  a  clear  head  for  reducing  difficult  accounts 
and  tangled  affairs  to  order,  he  had  never  imagined  could  either 
be  possessed  by,  or  was  any  business  of,  a  woman.  Not  in  the 
least  aware  of  the  wondering  admiration  she  had  excited,  Mrs. 
Hamilton  had  called  Robert  and  proceeded  to  the  school-room 
to  get  a  pattern  of  embroidery  and  a  note,  which  Caroline  had 
requested  might  be  sent  to  Annie  Grahame  that  evening ;  the 
note  was  on  the  table,  but  the  pattern  and  some  silks  she  had 
neglected  to  put  up  till  her  brothers  were  ready,  and  they  so 
hurried  her,  that  her  mother  had  promised  she  would  see  to  it 
for  her.  The  embroidery  box  was  in  a  panelled  closet  of  the 
school-room,  rather  high  up,  and  in  taking  especial  care  to  bring 
it  safely  down,  Robert  loosened  a  desk  from  its  equilibrium, 
and  it  fell  to  the  ground  with  such  force  as  to  break  into  se- 
veral pieces,  and  scatter  all  its  contents  over  the  floor.  It  was 
Ellen's  !  the  pretty  rose-wood  desk  which  had  been  her  gift, 
that  memorable  New  Year's  Eve,  and  was  now  the  repository 
of  her  dread  secret.  It  was  actually  in  fragments,  especially 
where  the  ink-stands  and  pens  had  been,  and  the  spring  broken, 
the  secret  drawrer  burst  open,  and  all  its  contents  were  dis- 
closed. Robert  was  much  too  concerned  to  think  of  any  thing 
but  his  own  extreme  carelessness,  and  his  mistress's  reprimand  ; 
and  he  busied  himself  in  hastily  picking  up  the  contents,  and 
placing  them  carefully  on  the  table,  preparatory  to  their  ar- 
rangement by  Mrs.  Hamilton  in  a  drawer  of  the  table  which 
she  was  emptying  for  the  purpose.  She  laid  them  carefully  in, 
and  was  looking  over  a  book  of  very  nicely  written  French 
themes,  glad  there  was  at  least  one  thing  for  which  she  might 
be  satisfied  with  Ellen,  when  an  exclamation  — 

"  Why,  there  is  one  of  them  !  I  am  so  glad,"  and  as  sudden 
a  stop  and  half-checked  groan  from  Robert  startled  her.  She 
looked  inquiringly  at  him,  but  he  only  covered  his  face  with 
one  hand,  while  the  other  remained  quite  unconsciously  cover 
ing  the  secret  drawer  out  of  which  the  contents  had  not  fallen, 
but  were  merely  disclosed. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Robert  ?  what  have  you  found  to  cause 
diich  contradictory  exclamations?  Speak,  for  God's  sake!" 
escaped  from  Mrs.  Hamilton's  lips,  for  by  that  lightning  touch 
jt  association,  memory,  thought,  whatever  it  may  be,  which 


204  HOME  INFLUENCE. 

joins  events  'ogether,  and  unites  present  with  past,  so  that 
almost  a  life  seems  crowded  in  a  moment,  such  a  suspicion 
flashed  upon  her  as  to  make  her  feel  sick  and  giddy,  and  turn 
so  unusually  pale,  as  effectually  to  rouse  Robert,  and  make  him 
spring  up  to  get  her  a  chair. 

"Nothing,  madam,  indeed  it  can  be  nothing  —  I  must  be 
mistaken  —  I  am  acting  like  a  fool  this  afternoon,  doing  the 
most  unheard-of  mischief,  and  then  frightening  you  and  myself 
at  shadows." 

"  This  evasion  will  not  do,  Robert ;  give  me  the  papers  at 
which  you  were  so  startled." 

He  hesitated,  and  Mrs.  Hamilton  extended  her  hand  to  take 
them  herself;  but  her  hand  and  arm  so  shook,  that  to  hide  it 
from  her  domestic,  she  let  it  quietly  drop  by  her  side,  and 
repeated  her  command  in  a  tone  that  brooked  no  farther  delay. 
He  placed  the  little  drawer  and  its  contents  in  her  hand,  and, 
without  a  word  withdrew  into  the  farthest  window.  For  full 
five,  it  might  have  been  ten  minutes,  there  was  silence  so  deep, 
a  pin-fall  might  have  been  louldly  heard.  It  was  broken  by 
Mrs.  Hamilton. 

"  Robert ! " 

There  was  neither  change  nor  tremor  in  the  voice,  but  the 
fearful  expression  of  forcibly-controlled  suffering  on  her  death- 
like countenance  so  awed  and  terrified  him,  he  besought  her, 
almost  inarticulately,  to  let  him  fetch  a  glass  of  water  —  wine  — 
something  — 

"  It  is  not  at  all  necessary,  my  good  boy ;  I  am  perfectly 
well.  This  is,  I  believe,  the  only  note  that  can  be  identified 
as  one  of  those  you  lost ;  these  smaller  ones  (she  pointed  to 
three,  of  one,  two,  and  four  pounds  each,  which  Ellen  had  re- 
ceived at  long  intervals  from  Mrs.  Langford)  have  nothing  to 
do  with  it  ?  " 

"  No,  madam,  and  that  —  that  may  not  —  " 

"  We  cannot  doubt  it,  Robert,  I  have  its  number ;  I  need 
not  detain  you,  however,  any  longer.  Take  care  of  these 
broken  fragments,  and  if  they  can  be  repaired,  see  that  it  is 
done.  Here  is  Miss  Hamilton's  note  and  parcel.  I  believe 
you  are  to  wait  for  an  answer,  at  all  events  inquire.  I  need 
not  ask  you  to  be  silent  on  this  discovery,  till  I  have  spoken  to 
Miss  Fortescue,  or  to  trust  my  promise  to  make  your  innocence 
fully  known." 

"  Not  by  the  exposure  of  Miss  Ellen  !  Oh,  madam,  this  is 
out  one  of  them,  the  smallest  one  —  it  may  have  come  to  her 
by  the  merest  chance  —  see  how  stained  it  is  with  damp  —  for 


HOMK    INFLUENCE.  2b<'J 

the  sake  of  mercy,  oh,  madam,  spare  her  and  yourself  too ! " 
and  in  the  earnestness  of  his  supplication  Robert  caught  hold 
of  her  dress,  hardly  knowing  himself  how  he  had  found  courage 
so  to  speak.  His  mistress's  lips  quivered. 

"It  is  a  kind  thought,  Robert,  and  if  justice  to  you  and 
mercy  to  the  guilty  can,  by  any  extenuating  clause  unknown 
to  me  now,  be  united,  trust  me,  they  shall.  Now  go." 

He  obeyed  in  silence,  and  still  Mrs.  Hamilton  changed  not 
that  outward  seeming  of  rigid  calm.  She  continued  to  put 
every  paper  and  letter  away,  (merely  retaining  the  notes,) 
locked  the  drawer,  took  possession  of  the  key,  and  then  retired 
to  her  own  room,  where  for  half  an  hour  she  remained  alone. 

It  is  not  ours  to  lift  the  veil  from  that  brief  interval.  We 
must  have  performed  our  task  badly  indeed,  if  our  readers 
cannot  so  enter  into  the  lofty  character,  the  inward  strivings 
and  outward  conduct  of  Mrs.  Hamilton,  as  not  to  imagine  more 
satisfactorily  to  themselves  than  we  could  write  it,  the  heart- 
crushing  agony  of  that  one  half  hour ;  and  anguish  as  it  was, 
it  did  but  herald  deeper.  There  was  not  even  partial  escape 
for  her,  as  there  would  have  been,  had  her  husband  been  at 
home.  Examination  of  the  culprit,  whose  mysterious  conduct 
was  so  fatally  explained,  that  she  did  not  even  dare  hope  this 
was  the  only  missing  note  she  had  appropriated  —  compelled 
confession  of  the  use  to  which  it  had  been  applied  —  public 
acknowledgment  of  Robert's  perfect  truth  and  innocence,  all 
crowded  on  her  mind  like  fearful  spectres  of  pain  and  misery, 
from  which  there  could  be  no  escape ;  and  from  whom  did  they 
spring?  Ellen!  the  child  of  her  adoption,  of  her  love;  whose 
character  she  had  so  tried  to  mould  to  good ;  whose  young  life 
she  had  so  sought  to  make  happier  than  its  earliest  years ;  for 
whom  she  had  so  hoped,  so  prayed,  so  trusted ;  had  borne  with 
anxiety  and  care,  tended  in  physical  suffering  with  such  untiring 
gentleness,  such  exhaustless  love  —  and  now ! 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE  CULPRIT  AND  THE  JUDGE 

IT  was  nearly  seven  when  the  young  party  returned,  delighted 
as  usual  with  their  afternoon's  amusement ;  and  Percy,  shouting 


2GG  HOME   INFLUENCE. 

loudly  for  his  mother,  giving  vent  to  an  exclamation  of  impa- 
tience at  finding  she  was  still  invisible. 

"I  shall  wish  Morris  and  all  his  concerns  at  the  bottom  of 
the  Dart,  if  he  is  so  to  engross  my  mother  when  I  want  her," 
be  said,  as  he  flung  himself  full  length  on  a  couch  in  the  music- 
room,  desiring  Emmeline  to  make  haste  and  disrobe,  as  he  must 
have  an  air  on  the  harp  to  soothe  his  troubled  spirit. 

Herbert,  to  look  for  a  poem,  the  beauty  of  which  he  had 
been  discussing  with  Miss  Harcourt  during  their  sail,  entered 
the  library,  but  perceiving  his  mother,  would  have  retreated, 
thinking  her  still  engaged;  but  she  looked  up  as  the  door 
opened,  and  perceiving  him,  smiled,  and  asked  him  if  they  had 
had  a  pleasant  afternoon.  lie  looked  at  her  earnestly,  without 
making  any  reply ;  then  approaching  her,  took  one  of  her  hands 
in  his,  and  said,  fondly  — 

"Forgive  me,  dearest  mother;  I  ought  not,  perhaps,  to  ask, 
but  I  am  sure  something  is  wrong.  You  are  ill  —  anxious  — 
may  I  not  share  it  ?  Can  I  do  nothing  ?  " 

"  Nothing,  my  Herbert ;  bless  you  for  your  watchful  love  — 
it  is  such  comfort."  And  the  long  pressure  of  the  hand  which 
so  warmly  clasped  hers,  the  involuntary  tenderness  with  which 
these  few  words  were  said,  betrayed  how  much  she  needed 
such  comfort  at  that  moment ;  but  she  rallied  instantly.  "  Do 
not  look  so  anxious,  dear  boy,  I  am  not  ill  —  not  quite  happy, 
perhaps,  but  we  know  where  to  look  for  strength  to  bear  trial, 
Herbert.  Wait  tea  for  me  till  eight  o'clock ;  it  is  probable  1 
may  be  engaged  till  then ;"  and,  satisfied  that  she  did  not  wish 
to  be  more  explicit,  Herbert  took  his  book,  and  somewhat  sor- 
rowfully left  her. 

Ten  minutes  more,  and  the  massive  door  unclosed  again,  but 
no  step  advanced,  for  the  intruder  remained  rooted  where  the 
door  had  closed.  It  was  a  very  large  and  lofty  room,  with  an 
arched  and  Gothic  roof,  of  black  and  fretted  oak,  the  walls  and 
chimney-piece  of  the  same  material  and  most  elaborate  work- 
manship. A  sort  of  dais,  remnant  of  olden  times,  divided  the 
upper  part  of  the  room,  by  two  or  three  steps,  from  the  lower. 
On  this  dais  was  the  raised  reading-desk  of  superbly  carved  oak, 
at  which  Mr.  Hamilton  officiated  morning  and  CTening,  and  two 
library  tables  of  more  modern  workmanship  stood  on  each  side, 
!/ut  rather  lower  down.  Except  the  massive  oaken  chairs  and 
couches,  and  three  or  four  curious  tables  scattered  about,  and 
the  well-filled  book-cases,  forming,  to  the  height  of  five  feet, 
the  border,  as  it  were,  of  the  fretted  wood-work  of  the  walls, 
uud  tilling  no  the  niches  formed  by  the  windows;  the  low*;) 


HOME    INFLUENCE.  -"' 

part  of  the  hall,  two-thirds  of  the  length,  was  comparath  ely 
unoccupied,  showing  its  vast  space  and  superb  roof  to  still  greater 
advantage.  The  magnificently  stained  windows,  one  on  the 
dais  — a  deep  oriel —  threw  such  subdued  light  into  the  room, 
as  accorded  well  with  its  other  appointments ;  but  as  evening 
advanced,  gave  it  that  sort  of  soft,  holy  light,  which  always 
impresses  the  spirit  with  a  species. of  awe. 

We  do  not  think  it  was  that  feeling  alone  which  so  over- 
powered the  second  intruder,  as  to  arrest  her,  spell-bound,  on  the 
threshold.  Mrs.  Hamilton  was  seated  at  one  of  the  tables  on 
(lie  dais  nearest  the  oriel  window,  the  light  from  which  fell 
full  on  her,  giving  her  figure,  though  she  was  seated  naturally 
enough  in  one  of  the  large,  maroon  velvet,  oaken  chairs,  an 
unusual  effect  of  dignity  and  command,  and  impressing  the 
terrified  beholder  with  such  a  sensation  of  awe,  that,  had  her 
life  depended  on  it,  she  could  not  for  that  one  minute  have  gone 
forward ;  and  even  when  desired  to  do  so  by  the  words  — 

"  I  desired  your  presence,  Ellen,  because  I  wished  to  speak 
to  you  ;  come  here  without  any  more  delay :  " —  how  she  walked 
the  whole  length  of  that  interminable  room,  and  stood  facing 
her  aunt,  she  never  knew. 

Mrs.  Hamilton  for  a  full  minute  did  not  speak,  but  she  fixed 
that  searching  look,  to  which  we  have  once  before  alluded, 
upon  Ellen's  face ;  and  then  said,  in  a  tone  which,  though  very 
low  and  calm,  expressed  as  much  as  that  earnest  look  — 

"  Ellen !  is  it  necessary  for  me  to  tell  you  why  you  are  here 

—  necessary  to  produce  the  proof  that  my  words  are  right,  and 
that  you  have  been  influenced  by  the  fearful  effects  of  some  un- 
confessed  and  most  heinous  sin  ?  Little  did  I  dream  its  nature." 

For  a  moment  Ellen  stood  as  turned  to  stone,  as  Avhite  and 
rigid  —  the  next  she  had  sunk  down,  with  a  wild,  bitter  cry  at 
Mrs.  Hamilton's  feet,  and  buried  her  face  in  her  hands. 

"  Is  it  true  —  can  it  be  true  —  that  you,  offspring  of  my  own 
sister,  dear  to.  me,  cherished  by  me  as  my  own  child  —  you  have 
been  the  guilty  one  to  appropriate,  and  conceal  the  appropria- 
tion of  money,  which  has  been  a  source  of  distress  by  its  loss, 
and  the  suspicion  thence  proceeding,  for  the  last  seven  weeks  ? 

—  that  you  could  listen  to  your  uncle's  words,  absolving  his 
whole  household  as  incapable  of  a  deed  which  was  actual  theft, 
and  yet,  by  neither  word  nor  sign,  betray  remorse  or  guilt?  — 
could  behold  the  innocent  suffering  the  fearful  misery  of  sus- 
picion, loss  of  character,  without  the  power  of  clearing  himself, 
and  stand  calmly,  heedlessly  by  —  only  proving  by  your  hard- 
ened and  rebellious  temper  that  all   was  not   right  within-  — 
Ellen,  can  this  be  true?" 


'^68  HOME  INFLUENCE. 

"Yes!  "was  the  reply,  but  with  such  a  fearful  effort,  tliat 
her  slight  frame  shook  as  with  an  ague;  "thank  God,  that  it 
is  known !  I  dared  not  bring  down  the  punishment  on  myse-f, 
but  I  can  bear  it." 

"  This  is  mere  mockery,  Ellen ;  how  dare  I  believe  even  this 
poor  evidence  of  repentance,  with  the  recollection  of  your  past 
conduct  ?  What  were  the  notes  you  found  ?  " 

Ellen  named  them. 

"  Where  are  they  ?  —  This  is  but  one,  and  the  smallest." 

Ellen's  answer  was  scarcely  audible. 

"  Used  them  —  and  for  what  ?  " 

There  was  no  answer,  neither  then,  nor  when  Mrs.  Hamilton 
sternly  reiterated  the  question.  She  then  demanded  — 

"  How  long  have  they  been  in  your  possession  ?  " 

"  Five  or  six  weeks ; "  but  the  reply  was  so  tremulous,  it 
carried  no  conviction  with  it. 

"  Since  Robert  told  his  story  to  your  uncle,  or  before  ?  " 

"Before." 

"  Then  your  last  answer  was  a  falsehood,  Ellen ;  it  is  full, 
seven  weeks  since  my  husband  addressed  the  household  on  the 
subject.  You  could  not  have  so  miscounted  time,  with  such  a 
deed  to  date  by.  Where  did  you  find  them?" 

Ellen  described  the  spot. 

"And  what  business  had  you  there  ?  You  know  that  neither 
you  nor  your  cousins  are  ever  allowed  to  go  that  way  to  Mrs. 
Langford's  cottage,  and  more  especially  alone.  If  you  wanted 
to  see  her,  why  did  you  not  go  the  usual  way  ?  And  when  was 
this  ?  —  you  must  remember  the  exact  day.  Your  memory  is 
not  in  general  so  treacherous." 

Again  Ellen  was  silent. 

"Have  you  forgotten  it?" 

She  crouched  lower  at  her  aunt's  feet,  but  the  answer  was 
audible  — 

"No." 

"Then  answer  me,  Ellen,  this  moment,  and  distinctly;  for 
what  purpose  were  you  seeking  Mrs.  Langford's  cottage  by  thai 
forbidden  path,  and  when?" 

"I  wanted  money,  and  I  went  to  ask  her  to  take  my  trinkets 
—  my  watch,  if  it  must  be  —  and  dispose  of  them  as  I  had  read 
of  others  doing,  as  miserable  as  I  was ;  and  the  wind  blew  the 
notes  to  my  very  hand,  and  I  used  them.  I  was  mad  then  —  I 
have  been  mad  since,  I  believe;  but  I  would  have  returned  tbe 
whole  amount  to  Robert,  if  I  could  but  have  parted  with  my 
trinkets  i\  time." 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  2G9 

To  describe  the  tone  of  utter  despair,  the  recklessness  as  to 
the  effect  her  words  would  produce,  is  impossible.  Every  word 
increased  Mrs.  Hamilton's  bewilderment  and  misery.  To  sup- 
pose that  Ellen  did  not  feel  was  folly.  It  was  the  very  depth 
of  wretchedness  which  was  crushing  her  to  the  earth,  but  every 
ansAvered  and  unanswered  question  but  deepened  the  mystery, 
and  rendered  her  judge's  task  more  difficult. 

"And  when  was  this,  Ellen  ?  I  will  have  no  more  evasion  — 
tell  me  the  exact  day." 

But  she  asked  in  vain.  Ellen  remained  moveless,  and  silent 
as  the  dead. 

After  several  minutes,  Mrs.  Hamilton  removed  her  hands 
from  her  face,  and  compelling  her  to  lift  up  her  head,  gazed 
searchingly  on  her  deathlike  countenance  for  some  moments 
in  utter  silence,  and  then  said,  in  a  tone  that  Ellen  never  in  her 
life  forgot  — 

"  You  cannot  imagine,  Ellen,  that  this  half-confession  will 
either  satisfy  me,  or  in  the  smallest  degree  redeem  your  sin. 
One  and  one  only  path  is  open  to  you ;  for  all  that  you  have 
said  and  left  unsaid  but  deepens  your  apparent  guilt,  and  so 
blackens  your  conduct,  that  I  can  scarcely  believe  I  am  ad- 
dressing the  child  I  so  loved  —  and  could  still  so  love,  if  but 
one  real  sign  be  given  of  remorse  and  penitence  —  one  hope  of 
returning  truth.  But  that  sign,  that  hope  can  only  be  a  full 
confession.  Terrible  as  is  the  guilt  of  appropriating  so  large  a 
sum,  granted  it  came  by  the  merest  chance  into  your  hand; 
dark  as  is  the  additional  sin  of  concealment  when  an  innocent 
person  was  suffering  —  something  still  darker,  more  terrible, 
must  be  concealed  behind  it,  or  you  would  not,  could  not,  con- 
tinue thus  obdurately  silent.  I  can  believe  that  under  some 
heavy  pressure  of  misery,  some  strong  excitement,  the  sura 
might  have  been  used  without  thought,  and  that  fear  might  have 
prevented  the  confession  of  any  thing  so  dreadful ;  but  what  was 
this  heavy  necessity  for  money,  this  strong  excitement  ?  What 
fearful  and  mysterious  difficulties  have  you  been  led  into  to 
call  for  either?  Tell  me  the  truth,  Ellen,  the  whole  truth  ;  let 
me  have  some  hope  of  saving  you  and  myself  the  misery  of 
publicly  declaring  you  the  guilty  one,  and  so  proving  Robert's 
innocence.  Tell  me  what  difficulty,  what  misery  so  maddened 
you,  as  to  demand  the  disposal  of  your  trinkets.  If  there  be 
the  least  excuse,  the  smallest  possibility  of  your  obtaining  i:i 
time  forgiveness,  I  will  grant  it.  I  will  not  believe  you  .«« 
utterly  fallen.  I  will  do  all  I  can  to  remove  error,  and  yet  k> 
prevent  suffering;  but  to  win  ihis,  I  mttst  I/are  a  full  conies- 
13 


270  HOME    INFLUENCE. 

Bion  —  every  question  that  I  put  to  you  must  be  clearly  and 
satisfactorily  answered,  and  so  bring  back  the  only  comfort  to 
yourself,  and  hope  to  me.  Will  you  do  this,  Ellen  ?  " 

"  Oh,  that  I  could  !  "  was  the  reply  in  such  bitter  anguish, 
Mrs.  Hamilton  actually  shuddered.  "But  I  cannot  —  must 
not  —  dare  not.  Aunt  Emmeline,  hate  me,  condemn  me  to 
the  severest,  sharpest  suffering ;  I  wish  for  it,  pine  for  it :  you 
cannot  loathe  me  more  than  I  do  myself,  but  do  not- — do  not 
speak  to  me  in  these  kind  tones  —  I  cannot  bear  them.  It 
was  because  I  knew  what  a  wretch  I  am,  that  I  have  so 
shunned  you,  I  was  not  worthy  to  be  with  you ;  oh,  sentence 
me  at  once !  I  dare  not  answer  as  you  wish." 

"  Dare  not  1 "  repeated  Mrs.  Hamilton,  more  and  more  be- 
wildered, and,  to  conceal  the  emotion  Ellen's  wild  words  and 
agonized  manner  had  produced,  adopting  greater  sternness. 
"  You  dare  commit  a  sin,  from  which  the  lowest  of  my  house- 
hold would  shrink  in  horror,  and  yet  tell  me  you  dare  not 
make  the  only  atonement,  give  me  the  only'  proof  of  real  peni- 
tence I  demand.  This  is  a  weak  and  wicked  subterfuge,  Ellen, 
ind  will  not  pass  with  me.  There  can  be  no  reason  for  this 
fearful  obduracy,  not  even  the  consciousness  of  greater  guilt, 
for  I  promise  forgiveness,  if  it  be  possible,  on  the  sole  condi- 
tion of  a  full  confession.  Once  more,  will  you  speak  ?  Your 
hardihood  will  be  utterly  useless,  for  you  cannot  hope  to  con- 
quer me ;  and  if  you  permit  me  to  leave  you  with  your  con- 
duct still  clothed  in  this  impenetrable  mystery,  you  will  compel 
me  to  adopt  measures  to  subdue  that  defying  spirit,  which  will 
expose  you  and  myself  to  intense  suffering,  but  which  must 
force  submission  at  last." 

"  You  cannot  inflict  more  than  I  have  endured  the  last  seven 
weeks,"  murmured  Ellen,  almost  inarticulately.  "I have  borne 
that,  I  can  bear  the  rest." 

"Then  you  will  not  answer?  You  are  resolved  not  to  tell 
me  the  day  on  which  you  found  that  money,  the  use  to  which 
it  was  applied.,  the  reason  of  your  choosing  that  forbidden 
path,  permitting  me  to  believe  you  guilty  of  heavier  sins  than 
may  be  the  case  in  reality.  Listen  to  me,  Ellen ;  it  is  more 
than  time  this  interview  should  cease,  but  I  will  give  you  one 
chance  more.  It  is  how  half-past  seven  "  —  she  took  the  watch 
from  her  neck  and  laid  it  on  the  taWe  —  "I  will  remain  here 
one  half-hour  longer:  by  that  time  this  sinful  temper  may  have 
passed  away,  and  you  will  consent  to  give  me  the  corfession  1 
demand.  I  cannot  believe  you  so  altered  in  two  months  as  to 
choose  obduracy  jvid  misery,  when  pardon,  and  in  time  coii 


HOME   INFLUENCE  21 

fidence  and  love,  are  offered  in  their  stead.  Get  up  from  that 
crouching  posture,  it  can  be  but  mock  humility,  and  so  only 
aggravates  your  sin." 

Ellen  rose  slowly  and  painfully,  and  seating  herself  at  the 
table,  some  distance  from  her  aunt,  leaned  her  arms  upon  it, 
and  buried  her  face  within  them.  Never  before,  and  never  after 
did  half  an  hour  appear  so  interminable  to  either  Mrs.  Hamilton 
or  Ellen.  It  was  well  for  the  firmness  of  the  former,  perhaps, 
that  she  could  not  read  the  heart  of  that  young  girl,  even  if  the 
cause  of  its  anguish  had  been  still  concealed.  Again  and  again 
did  the  wild  longing,  turning  her  actually  faint  and  sick  with 
its  agony,  come  over  her  to  reveal  the  whole,  to  ask  but  rest 
and  mercy  for  herself,  pardon  and  security  for  Edward ;  but 
then  clear,  as  held  before  her  in  letters  of  fire,  she  read  every 
word  of  her  brother's  desperate  letter,  particularly  "  Breathe 
it  to  my  uncle  or  aunt,  for  if  she  knows  it  he  will,  and  you  will 
never  see  me  more."  Her  mother,  pallid  as  death,  seemed  to 
stand  before  her,  freezing  confession  on  her  heart  and  lips,  look- 
ing at  her  threateningly,  as  she  had  so  often  seen  her,  as  if  the 
very  thought  were  guilt.  The  rapidly  advancing  twilight,  the 
large  and  lonely  room,  all  added  to  that  fearful  illusion,  and  if 
Ellen  did  succeed  in  praying,  it  was  with  desperate  fervor,  for 
strength  not  to  betray  her  brother.  If  ever  there  were  a  martyr 
spirit,  it  was  enshrined  in  that  young,  frail  form. 

But  how  could  Mrs.  Hamilton  imagine  this  ?  How  could 
her  wildest  fancy  bring  Edward  —  the  brave,  happy,  eager  Ed- 
ward, of  whom  captain,  officers,  and  crew  wrote  in  such  terms 
of  praise  and  admiration,  who  had  never  given  cause  for  anxi- 
ety, and  who  was  so  far  distant  —  as  the  uniting  link  to  this 
terrible  mystery  ?  Was  it  not  more  natural  that  he  should  not 
enter  the  incongruous  and  painful  thoughts  floating  through  her 
brain,  save  as  her  last  resource,  by  his  influence,  to  obtain  the 
truth  from  Ellen  ?  The  more  she  thought,  the  more  agonizing 
her  thoughts  became  ;  what  could  induce  this  determined  silence, 
but  a  conviction  of  deeper  guilt,  and  what  could  that  guilt  be  r 
The  most  terrible  suspicions  crossed  her  mind ;  she  had  heard 
though  she  had  scarcely  believed  in  them,  of  entanglements 
even  where  the  guardianship  had  been  most  rigid.  Could  one 
so  young,  seemingly  so  innocent,  have  fallen  into  the  power  of 
some  desperate  character,  who  was  working  on  her  thus  ?  How 
could  she  be  sure  she  intended  to  take  her  trinkets  to  Mrs. 
Langford  ?  Her  choosing  that  forbidden  path  which  was  never 
by  any  chance  trodden  by  the  family  or  their  friends,  her  con- 
stant desire  lately  not  to  join  them  in  their  excursions,' prefer- 


*72  HOME  INFLUENCE. 

ring,  and  often  finding  some  excuse  to  remain  alone  —  all  caina 
to  Mrs.  Hamilton's  mind,  with  such  an  overpowering  sensaticm 
of  dread  and  misery,  that  the  worst  guilt  Ellen  could  have 
avowed  would  scarcely  have  been  worse  than  anticipation 
pictured ;  and  yet  every  thought  was  so  vague,  every  fancy  so 
undefined  —  there  was  nothing  she  could  grasp  at  as  a  saving 
hope,  or  in  the  remotest  degree  excusing  cause  ;  such  obdurate 
silence  in  one  so  young,  generally  so  yielding,  could  and  must 
conceal  nothing  but  still  more  fearful  sin.  The  darkness  which 
had  gathered  round  them,  save  the  brightening  light  of  the 
harvest  moon,  suddenly  awakened  her  to  the  lapse  of  time. 
The  moonlight  fell  full  on  the  face  of  the  watch,  which  was  a 
repeater.  It  wanted  but  three  minutes  more,  and  Mrs.  Hamil- 
ton watched  the  progress  of  the  hand  with  such  sickening  dread, 
that  when  it  reached  the  hour,  she  had  scarcely  strength  to 
strike  it,  and  so  give  notice  —  for  words  she  had  none  —  that 
the  hour  of  grace  had  passed.  But  she  conquered  the  power- 
lessness,  and  those  soft  chimes,  which,  when  Ellen  first  came  to 
Oakwood,  had  been  such  a  constant  source  of  childish  wonder 
and  delight,  now  rang  in  her  ears  louder,  hoarser,  more  fear- 
fully distinct,  than  even  those  of  the  ancient  time-piece  in  the 
hall,  which  at  the  same  moment  rang  out  the  hour  of  eight. 

The  sound  ceased,  and  with  heightened  dignity,  but  in  per- 
fect silence,  Mrs.  Hamilton  rose,  passed  her  niece,  and  had 
nearly  reached  the  door,  when  she  paused,  and  turned  toward 
Ellen,  as  if  irresolute.  Ellen's  eyes  had  watched  her  as  in 
fascination,  and  the  pause  endowed  her  with  just  sufficient 
power  to  spring  forward,  fling  herself  at  her  aunt's  feet,  and 
clasping  her  knees  with  all  her  little  remaining  strength,  pas- 
sionately implore  — 

"Aunt  Emmeline,  aunt  Emmeline,  speak  to  me  but  one 
word,  only  one  word  of  kindness  before  you  go.  I  do  not  ask 
for  mercy,  there  can  be  none  for  such  a  wretch  as  I  am ;  I  will 
bear  without  one  complaint,  one  murmur,  all  you  may  inflict  — 
you  cannot  be  too  severe.  Nothing  can  be  such  agony  as  the 
utter  loss  of  your  affection  ;  I  thought,  the  last  two  months,  that 
I  feared  you  so  much  that  it  was  all  fear,  no  love,  but  now, 
now  that  you  know  my  sin,  it  has  all,  all  come  back  to  make 
me  still  more  wretched."  And  before  Mrs.  Hamilton  could 
prevent,  or  was  in  the  least  aware  of  her  intention,  Ellen  had 
obtained  possession  of  one  of  her  hands,  and  was  covering  it 
with  kisses,  while  her  whole  frame  shook  with  those  convulsed, 
but  completely  tearless  sobs. 

"  Will  you  confess,  Ellen,  if  I  .-*tay?     Will  you  give  me  the 


HOME  INFLUENCE.  273 

proof  that  it  is  such  agony  to  lose  my  affection,  that  you  dc 
Ijve  me  as  you  profess,  and  that  it  is  only  one  sin  which  has 
so  changed  you  ?  One  word,  and,  tardy  as  it  is,  I  will  listen, 
and,  if  I  can,  forgive." 

Ellen  made  no  answer,  and  Mrs.  Hamilton's  newly-raised 
hopes  vanished ;  she  waited  full  two  or  three  minutes,  then 
gently  disengaged  her  hand  and  dress  from  Ellen's  still  convul- 
sive grasp  ;  the  door  closed,  with  a  sullen,  seemingly  unwilling 
sound,  and  Ellen  was  alone.  She  remained  in  the  same  pos- 
ture, the  same  spot,  till  a  vague,  cold  terror  so  took  possession 
of  her,  that  the  room  seemed  filled  with  ghostly  shapes,  and  all 
the  articles  of  furniture  suddenly  transformed  to  things  of  life  ! 
and  springing  up,  with  the  wild,  fleet  step  of  fear,  she  paused 
not  till  she  found  herself  in  her  own  room,  where  flinging  her- 
self on  her  bed,  she  buried  her  face  on  her  pillow,  to  shut  out 
every  object  —  oh,  how  she  longed  to  shut  out  thought ! 

It  was  such  a  different  scene,  such  a  fulness  of  innocent  joy, 
on  which  Mrs.  Hamilton  entered,  that  though  she  thought  her- 
self nerved  to  control  all  visible  emotion,  the  contrast  almost 
overpowered  her ;  knowing,  too,  that  the  fatal  effects  of  one 
person's  sin  must  banish  that  innocent  enjoyment,  and  would 
fall  on  them  all  as  some  fearful,  joy-destroying  blow.  The 
room,  one  of  the  least  spacious,  was  cheerfully  lighted,  the  urn 
hissing  upon  the  table,  at  which  Caroline,  as  usual,  was  presid- 
ing, only  waiting  for  her  mother's  appearance,  to  satisfy  Percy, 
who  was  loudly  declaring  he  was  famished  in  two  senses  —  for 
want  of  his  mother's  company,  and  of  some  restorative  for  his 
craving  appetite.  He  was  lounging  on  the  sofa,  playing  with 
Emmeline's  flowing  ringlets,  as  she  sat  on  a  low  stool  by  his 
side,  chatting  with  him,  in  as  discursive  a  strain  as  his  fancy 
willed.  Herbert  arid  Miss  Harcourt  were  still  in  earnest  dis- 
cussion on  their  poem,  from  which  Herbert  was  occasionally 
reading  aloud  such  beautiful  passages,  and  with  such  richness 
of  intonation,  and  variety  of  expression,  that  Caroline,  and  even 
Percy  and  Emmeline,  would  pause  involuntarily  to  listen. 

"At  length  !  "  exclaimed  Percy,  springing  up,  as  did  Herbert 
at  the  same  moment,  to  get  their  mother  a  chair,  and  place  her 
comfortably  as  usual  in  the  midst  of  them.  "  Mother,  I  really 
did  begin  to  think  you  intended  to  punish  my  impatience  by  not 
joining  us  at  all  to-night." 

"  I  did  not  know  you  were  impatient,  my  dear  boy,  or  per- 
haps I  might  have  done  so  !  "  was  her  quiet,  and  even  smiling 
reply.  "  I  fear,  indeed,  waiting  for  me  so  long  after  a  water- 
excusion,  must  have  caused  you  to  be  impatient  in  another 
sense." 


£74  HOME   INFLUENCE. 

"  What !  that  we  must  be  all  famished  ?  I  assure  you,  we 
are,  and  the  loss  of  your  society  sharpened  the  pangs  of  hunger. 
I  owe  Morris  a  grudge,  and  will  certainly  serve  him  out  one 
day,  for  detaining  you  so  long  when  I  wanted  you." 

"  It  was  not  Morris  that  detained  me,"  answered  Mrs.  Ha 
aiilton,  somewhat  hurriedly.  "  I  had  done  with  him  by  six 
o  clock  ;  but  come,  tell  me  something  about  your  excursion," 
she  added,  evidently  anxious  to  elude  farther  remark,  and  per- 
ceiving at  once  that  Miss  Harcourt  and  Herbert  both  looked  at 
her  very  anxiously.  "  How  did  your  boat  go,  and  how  did 
Caroline's  voice  and  your  flute  sound  on  the  water,  Percy? 
Herbert,  I  see,  has  found  poetry,  as  usual,  and  made  Miss  Har 
court  his  companion  ;  you  must  tell  me  what  verses  our  beauti- 
ful river  recalled  this  afternoon  ;  and  you,  Emmy,  have  you  any 
more  sketches  to  fill  up  ?  " 

Her  children  eagerly  entered  on  their  day's  enjoyment  — 
Herbert  conquering  his  anxiety,  to  emulate  his  mother's  calm- 
ness, but  Miss  Harcourt  had  been  too  painfully  startled  by  the 
unusual  expression  of  forcibly-controlled  suffering  on  her  friend's 
face,  to  do  so  with  any  success.  Nearly  an  hour,  however, 
passed  animatedly  as  usual ;  each  found  so  much  to  tell,  and 
Percy  was  in  such  wild  spirits,  that  it  was  utterly  impossible  for 
there  to  be  any  thing  like  a  pause.  Tea  had  always  been  a 
favorite  meal  at  Oakwood,  as  bringing  all  the  family  together 
after  the  various  business  of  the  day,  and  it  continued  to  be  so. 
They  had  lingered  over  it  as  Usual,  when  Caroline  suddenly 
exclaimed  — 

"  What  has  become  of  Ellen  ?  I  had  quite  forgotten  her  till 
this  moment ;  how  neglectful  she  will  think  us  !  Do  ring  the 
bell,  Percy,  that  we  may  send  and  let  her  know." 

"  If  she  has  no  recollection  of  meal-time,  I  really  think  we 
need  not  trouble  ourselves  about  her,"  was  Percy's  half-jesting, 
half-earnest  reply,  for  Ellen's  changed  manner  to  his  mother 
had  made  him  more  angry  with  her,  and  for  a  longer  time 
together,  than  he  had  ever  been  with  anybody,  especially  a 
woman,  in  his  life.  lie  stretched  out  his  hand,  however,  to  ring 
the  bell,  but  Mrs.  Hamilton  stopped  him. 

"  You  need  not,  Percy  ;  your  cousin  will  not  wish  to  join  us,' 
she  said  ;  and  her  tone  was  now  so  expressive  of  almost  an 
guish,  that  every  one  of  that  happy  party  startled  and  looked 
at  her  with  the  most  unfeigned  alarm,  and  Percy,  every  the  tight 
of  jest  and  joyousness  checked,  threw  his  arms  round  her,  ex- 
claiming— 

"Mother,  dearest  !  what  has  happened  !  —  that  unhappy  girl 


HOME    INFLUENCE.  275 

Hgain !  I  am  sure  it  is.  Why  do  you  not  cast  her  off  from 
your  heart  at  once ;  she  will  bring  you  nothing  but  sorrow  for 
all  you?  love." 

"  Pe:cy,  how  can  you  be  so  harsh  ?  —  how  unlike  you ! " 
exclaimed  Emmeline,  indignantly,  as  Mrs.  Hamilton's  head,  for 
a  few  minutes  of  natural  weakness,  sunk  on  her  son's  encircling 
arm.  "We  have  all  given  mamma  trouble  and  pain  enough 
one  time  or  other,  and  what  would  have  become  of  us  if  she 
had  cast  us  off?  and  Ellen  has  no  mother,  too  — for  shame  !  " 

"  Hush ! "  answered  Percy,  almost  sternly,  for  there  were 
times  when  he  could  quite  throw  off  the  boy.  "  This  is  no 
light  or  common  matter,  to  affect  my  mother  thus.  Shall  we 
send  for  Mr.  Howard,  mother  ?  "  he  continued,  fondly ;  "  in  my 
father's  absence  he  is  your  ablest  friend  —  we  can  only  feel,  not 
counsel." 

But  there  are  times  when  feeling  can  aid  in  bringing  back 
control  and  strength,  when  counsel  alone  would  seem  so  harsh 
and  cold,  we  can  only  weep  before  it;  and  the  fond  affection 
of  her  children,  the  unusual  assumption  of  protecting  manliness 
in  Percy,  so  touchingly  united  with  the  deep  respect  that  pre- 
vented the  least  intrusive  question  as  to  the  cause  of  her  distress 
till  she  chose  to  reveal  it,  gave  her  power  to  send  back  the  tears 
that  had  escaped  at  first  so  hot  and  fast,  and  though  still  holding 
his  hand,  as  if  its  very  pressure  was  support,  she  was  enabled 
calmly  to  relate  the  fatal  discovery  of  that  evening.  Its  effect 
was,  in  truth,  as  if  a  thunderbolt  had  fallen  in  the  midst  of 
them.  An  execration,  forcibly  checked,  but  passionate  as  his 
nature,  burst  from  the  lips  of  Percy,  as  he  clasped  his  arm 
close  round  his  mother,  as  thus  to  protect  her  from  the  misery 
he  felt  himself.  Herbert,  with  a  low  cry  of  pain,  buried  his 
face  in  his  hands.  Caroline,  shocked  and  bewildered,  but  her 
first  thought  for  her  mother,  could  only  look  at,  and  feel  for  her, 
quite  forgetting  that  her  every  prejudice  against  Ellen  did  in- 
deed seem  fulfilled.  Emmeline  at  first  looked  stunned,  then 
sinking  down  at  Mrs.  Hamilton's  feet,  hid  her  face  on  her  lap, 
and  sobbed  with  such  uncontrolled  violence,  that  it  might  have 
seemed  as  if  she  herself,  not  Ellen,  were  the  guilty  cause  of  all 
this  misery.  Miss  Harcourt,  like  Caroline,  could  only  think 
tuid  feel  for  Mrs.  Hamilton  ;  for  she  knew  so  well  all  the  hope, 
interest,  and  love  which  Ellen  had  excited,  and  what  must  be 
tne  bitter  suffering  of  this  fearful  disappointment. 

"  Do  not  weep  thus,  love,"  Mrs.  Hamilton  said,  addressing 
Emmeine,  after  nearly  a  quarter  of  an  hour  had  passed,  and 
the  various  emotions  of  each  individual  had  found  vent  in  words 


£7G  HOME    INFLUENCE. 

well  illustrative  of  their  respective  characters  ;  all  but  Enameling 
who  continued  to  sob  so  painfully,  that  her  mother  successfully 
forgot  her  owu  sorrow  to  comfort  her.  "  Ellen  is  still  very 
young,  and  though  she  is  giving  us  all  this  misery  and  disap- 
pointment now,  she  may  become  all  we  can  wish  her,  by-and-by. 
We  must  not  give  up  all  hope,  because  now  all  my  cares  seem 
so  blighted.  There  is  some  fatal  mystery  attached  to  her  con- 
duct ;  for  I  am  indeed  deceived  if  she  is  not  very  wretched,  and 
there  is  some  hope  in  that." 

"  Then  why  does  she  not  speak?"  rejoined  Percy,  impetuous- 
ly ;  for  when  he  found  his  mother  resuming  control  and  firmness, 
he  had  given  vent  to  his  indignation  by  striding  hastily  up  and 
down  the  room.  "What  but  the  most  determined  hardihood 
and  wickedness  can  keep  her  silent,  when  you  promise  forgive- 
ness if  she  will  but  speak?  What  mystery  can  there,  or  ought 
there,  to  be  about  her,  when  she  has  such  an  indulgent  friend 
as  yourself  to  bring  all  her  troubles  to  ?  Wretched !  I  hope 
she  is,  for  she  deserves  to  be,  if  it  were  only  for  her  base  in- 
gratitude." 

"  Percy !  dear  Percy !  do  not  speak  and  judge  so  very 
harshly,"  interposed  Herbert,  with  deep  feeling;  "there  does, 
indeed,  seem  no  excuse  for  her  conduct,  but  if  we  ever  should 
find  that  there  is  some  extenuating  cause,  how  unhappy  we 
shall  be  for  having  judged  her  still  more  harshly  than  she 
deserved." 

"It  is  impossible  we  can  do  that,"  muttered  Percy,  continu- 
ing his  angry  walk.  "  Nothing  but  guilt  can  be  the  cause  of 
her  keeping  any  thing  from  my  mother.  Ellen  knows,  as  we 
all  know,  that  even  error,  when  confessed,  has  always  been  for- 
given, sorrow  always  soothed,  and  every  difficulty  removed. 
What  can  her  silence  spring  from,  then,  but  either  defying 
obstinacy  or  some  blacker  sin  ?  " 

"  It  does  seem  like  it,  unhappily,"  rejoined  Caroline,  but  very 
sorrowfully,  not  at  all  as  if  she  triumphed  in  her  own  previous 
penetration ;  "  but  she  cannot  persevere  in  it  long.  Dear 
mamma,  do  not  look  so  distressed :  it  is  impossible  she  can 
resist  you  for  any  length  of  time." 

"  She  has  resisted  every  offer  of  kindness,  my  dear  child, 
and  it  is  the  difficulty  as  to  what  course  to  pursue,  to  compel 
submission  and  confession,  that  so  grieves  and  perplexes  me." 

"  Let  me  seek  Mr.  Howard,  dearest  mother,"  answered  Her- 
bert ;  "  he  is  so  good,  so  kind,  even  in  his  severest  judgments, 
that  I  really  think  Ellen  will  scarcely  be  able  to  persevere  in 
her  mistaken  silence,  if  he  speak  to  her." 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  277 

Mrs.  Hamilton  paused  for  some  moments  in  thought. 

"  I  believe  you  are  right,  Herbert.  If  I  must  have  counsel 
out  of  my  own  family,  I  cannot  go  to  a  kinder,  wiser,  or  more 
silent  friend.  If  the  fearful  shame  which  I  rnust  inflict  on 
Ellen  to-night  of  proving  Robert's  innocence  before  my  whole 
household,  by  the  denouncement  of  her  guilt,  have  no  effect  iu 
softening  her,  I  .will  appeal  to  him." 

"  Oh,  mamma,  must  this  be  —  can  you  not,  will  you  not 
spare  her  this  ?  "  implored  Emmeline,  clinging  to  her  mother, 
in  passionate  entreaty ;  "  it  would  kill  me,  I  know  it  would. 
Do  not  —  do  not  expose  her  to  such  shame." 

"  Do  you  think  it  is  no  suffering  to  my  mother  to  be  called 
upon  to  do  this,  Emmeline,  that  you  add  to  it  by  this  weak  in- 
terference ? "  replied  Percy,  sternly,  before  his  mother  could 
reply.  "  Shame !  she  has  shamed  us  all  enough.  There 
wants  little  more  to  add  to  it." 

But  Emmeline's  blue  eyes  never  moved  from  her  mother's 
face,  and  Miss  Harcourt,  longing  to  spare  Mrs.  Hamilton  the 
suffering  of  such  a  proceeding,  tried  to  persuade  her  to  evade 
it,  but  she  did  not  succeed. 

"  One  word  of  confession  —  one  evidence  that  her  sin  ori- 
ginated in  a  momentary  temptation,  that  it  conceals  nothing 
darker  —  one  real  proof  of  penitence,  and  God  knows  how 
gladly  I  would  have  spared  myself  and  her ;  but  as  it  is,  Lucy. 
Emmeline,  do  not  make  my  duty  harder." 

Few  as  these  words  were,  the  tone  that  spoke  them  was 
enough.  No  more  was  said,  and  Mrs.  Hamilton  tried,  but  with 
very  little  success,  to  turn  her  children's  thoughts  to  other  and 
pleasanter  things.  Time  seemed  to  lag  heavily,  and  yet  when 
the  prayer-bell  sounded,  it  fell  on  every  heart  as  some  fearful 
knell  which  must  have  been  struck  too  soon. 

All  were  assembled  in  the  library,  and  in  their  respective 
places,  all  but  one,  and  Herbert  waited  her  appearance. 

"  Tell  Miss  Fortescue  that  we  are  only  waiting  for  her  to 
commence  prayers  ; "  and  Fanny,  the  young  ladies'  attendant, 
departed  to  obey,  wondering  at  Miss  Ellen's  non-appearance, 
but  hearing  nothing  unusual  in  her  mistress's  voice.  She  re- 
turned, but  still  they  Avaited ;  again  the  door  unclosed,  arid 
Emmeline  bent  forward  in  an  attitude  of  agony  and  shame, 
unable  even  to  look  at  her  cousin,  whose  place  was  close  beside 
her ;  but  the  words  she  dreaded  came  not  then  —  Herbert,  at 
his  mother's  sign,  commenced  the  service,  and  it  proceeded  as 
usual.  The  fearful  struggle  in  Mrs.  Hamilton's  gentle  bosom, 
who  might  read,  save  the  all-pitying  God,  whom  she  so  fer< 


278  HOME    INFLUENCE. 

vently  addressed  for  strength  and  guidance?     The  voice  cf  liei 
son  ceased,  and  the  struggle  was  over. 

"  Before  we  part  for  the  night,"  she  said,  when  all  but  one 
liad  arisen,  "  it  is  necessary  that  the  innocent  should  be  so  justi- 
fied before  you  all,  that  he  should  no  longer  be  injured  by 
suspicion  and  avoidance.  It  is  nearly  two  months  since  your 
master  assured  you  of  his  own  and  of  my  perfect  conviction 
that  Robert  Langford  had  told  the  truth,  and  that  the  missing 
notes  had  been  unfortunately  lost  by  him  ;  not  appropriated,  aa 
I  fear  most  of  you  have  believed,  and  are  still  inclined  to  do. 
The  complete  failure  of  every  search  for  them  has  induced  a 
very  uncomfortable  feeling  among  you  all  as  to  the  person  on 
whom  suspicion  of  finding  and  appropriating  them  might  fall, 
none  but  the  household  frequenting  that  particular  path,  and 
none  being  able  to  suppose  that  the  storm  could  have  so  dis- 
persed as  to  lose  all  trace  of  them.  I  acknowledge  it  was 
unlikely,  but  not  so  unlikely  as  that  Robert  Langford  should 
have  failed  in  honesty,  or  that  any  of  my  household  should  have 
appropriated  or  concealed  them.  All  mystery  is  now,  how- 
ever, at  an  end ;  the  missing  notes  have  been  traced  and  found  ; 
and  that  all  suspicion  and  discomfort  may  be  removed  from 
among  you,  it  becomes  my  duty  to  designate  the  individual 
who  has  thus  transgressed  every  duty  to  God  and  man,  not  by 
the  sin  alone ;  but  by  so  long  permitting  the  innocent  to  suffer 
for  the  guilty,  more  especially  as  that  individual  is  one  of  my 
own  family"  —  for  one  moment  she  paused,  whether  to  gain 
strength,  or  to  give  more  force  to  her  concluding  words,  no  ono 
could  tell  —  "ELLEN  FORTESCUE!" 


CHAPTER   VI. 

THE    SENTENCE,    AND    ITS    EXECUTION. 

THE  excitement  which  reigned  in  the  servants'  hall,  after 
they  had  withdrawn,  in  the  most  respectful  silence,  from  the 
library,  was  extreme.  Robert,  utterly  unable  to  realize  relief 
in  this  proof  of  his  own  innocence,  could  only  pace  the  hall  in 
agony,  deploring  his  mad  carelessness,  which,  by  exposing  to 
temptation,  had  caused  it  all ;  and  Morris  and  Ellis  deepened 
She  remorse  by  perfectly  agreeing  with  him.  Before  they  sepa- 


HOME  INFLUENCE.  279 

n  ted,  the  old  steward  called  them  all  together  ;  and,  his  voice 
Iroinbling  with  agitation,  the  tears  actually  running  down  his 
furrowed  cheeks,  told  them  that  even  as  their  mistress  had  done 
her  duty  to  the  utmost,  ay,  more  than  the  utmost  by  them  —  for 
it  must  have  well-nigh  broken  her  heart  to  do  it  —  a  solemn  duty 
was  demanded  from  them  to  her,  and  that  if  either  man,  woman, 
or  child  failed  in  it,  he  should  know  that  they  had  neither  feel- 
ing, honor,  nor  gratitude  in  their  hearts,  and  deserved  and 
should  be  scouted  by  them  all ;  and  that  duty  was  never  to  let 
the  event  of  that  night  pass  their  lips,  even  to  each  other.  It 
was  enough  that  all  mystery  and  suspicion  had  been  tak'en  from 
them,  and  that  time  would  clear  up  the  remainder ;  he  never 
would  believe  the  grandchild  of  his  mistress's  father,  one  she 
had  so  loved  and  cared  for,  could  wilfully  act  as  appearances 
seemed  to  say  ;  that  he  was  sure,  one  day  or  other,  they  would 
all  find  there  was  much  more  to  pity  than  to  blame  ;  and  till 
then,  if  they  had  the  least  spark  of  generous  or  grateful  feeling, 
they  would  forget  the  whole  affair,  and  only  evince  their  sense 
of  their  mistress's  conduct,  by  yet  greater  respect  and  attention 
to  their  respective  duties. 

The  old  man's  speech  was  garrulous,  and  perhaps  often 
faulty  in  grammar,  but  it  came  from  the  heart,  and  so  went  to 
the  heart  at  once,  and  -not  one  held  back  from  the  pledge  of 
silence  he  demanded.  There  are  some  who  imagine  that  the 
refinement  of  feeling  which  alone  could  actuate  Morris's  speech, 
and  its  warm  and  immediate  response,  is  only  to  be  found 
among  the  educated  and  the  rich ;  how  little  those  who  thus 
suppose  understand  the  human  heart !  Kindness  bogets  kind- 
ness ;  and  if  superiors  will  but  think  of,  and  seek  the  happiness, 
temporal  and  eternal,  of  their  inferiors  —  will  but  prove  that 
they  are  considered  as  children  of  one  common  Father  —  there 
needs  no  equality  of  rank  to  create  equality  of  happiness,  or 
equality  of  refined,  because  true  feeling. 

The  next  morning,  when  Mrs.  Hamilton  had  occasion  to 
speak  to  Morris  about  some  farm  receipts,  which  had  not  been 
forthcoming  the  preceding  day,  she  recalled  him  as  he  was 
departing ;  but  the  words  she  had  to  say  seemed  unusually 
difficult,  for  her  voice  audibly  faltered,  and  her  face  was  com- 
pletely shaded  by  her  hand.  It  was  simply  to  ask  that  which 
Morris's  loving  reverence  had  already  done  ;  and  when  the  old 
man,  in  those  earnest  accents  of  heartfelt  respect  and  kindness, 
which  never  can  be  mistaken,  related  what  had  passed,  his 
mistress  hastily  extended  her  hand  to  him,  saying,  in  a  tcne  he 
never  forgrot  — 


HOME    INFLUKNCK. 

"  God  bless  you,  Morris  !  I  ought  to  have  known  your  love 
for  your  master's  house  would  have  urged  this,  without  any  re- 
quest from  me.  I  cannot  thank  you  enough."  The  kiss  he 
ventured  to  press  upon  the  delicate  hand  which  pressed  his 
rough  palm,  was  not  unaccompanied,  though  he  did  force  ba^k 
the  tear,  and  most  respectfully,  yet  very  earnestly,  beseech  his 
mistress  not  to  take  on  too  much.  There  must  be  some  cause, 
some  mystery  ;  no  one  belonging  to  her  could  so  have  acted 
without  some  very  fearful  temptation,  some  very  powerful  rea- 
son, and  it  would  all  come  straight  one  day. 

But  whatever  the  future,  the  present  was  only  suffering  ;  for 
to  obtain  a  full  confession  from*  Ellen,  Mrs.  Hamilton  felt  so 
absolutely  incumbent  on  her,  that  she  steadily  refused  to  listen 
to  either  pity  or  affection,  which  could  shake  her  firmness  ;  and 
ilia  opinion  and  advice  of  Mr.  Howard  strengthened  the  deter- 
mination. He  had  a  private  interview  with  Ellen,  but  it  was 
attended  with  so  very  little  success,  that  he  left  her  far  more 
bewildered  and  grieved  than  he  had  sought  her ;  but  fully  con- 
vinced it  was  mere  hardihood  and  obstinacy,  which  caused  her 
incomprehensible  and  most  guilty  silence.  Not  even  allowing, 
as  Mrs.  Hamilton  had,  that  there  was  any  evidence  of  misery 
and  remorse  ;  perhaps  she  had  been  more  quiet,  more  resolutely 
calm,  and  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  strong  appearances  against 
her,  he  surely  must  have  seen  it  was  the  strength  and  quiet  of 
despair,  not  the  defiance  he  believed. 

"  This  rebellious  spirit  must  be  conquered,"  he  said,  on  rejoin- 
ing Mrs.  Hamilton,  who,  with  her  children  and  Miss  Harcourt, 
had  most  anxiously  and  yet  hopefully  awaited  the  result  of  his 
interference.  "  We  should  actually  be  sharing  her  sin,  if  we 
permit  her  to  conquer  us  by  obduracy  and  self-will.  Solitary 
confinement  and  complete  idleness  may  bring  her  to  a  better 
temper,  and,  in  fact,  should  be  persisted  in,  till  a  full  confession 
be  made.  If  that  fail,  my  dear  Mrs.  Hamilton,  your  niect 
should  be  banished  from  Oakwood.  She  must  not  remain  here 
11  continual  source  of  anxiety  and  misery  to  you,  and  of  success- 
ful hardihood  to  herself;  but  of  that  there  will  be  time  enough 
:o  think  when  you  have  an  answer  from  Mr.  Hamilton;  his 
judgment  from  a  distance  may  be  wiser  than  ours  on  the  spot, 
and  irritated  as  we  are  by  such  unaccountable  obstinacy  in  one 
we  have  always  thought  almost  too  yielding." 

And   it  was  this   incomprehensible   change  of  character,   in 
seeming,  that  still  more  perplexed  Mrs.  Hamilton,  and  so  made 
her   believe    there    must   be  some  worse  fault,  or  dangerous 
entanglement,  demanding  such  resolute  pertinacity  in  conce  U 
uient. 


HOME  INFLUENCE.  281 

Closely  competed  with  Ellis's  private  apartments,  and  having 
neither  inlet  nor  outlet,  save  through  the  short  passage  opening 
fr)m  her  sitting-room,  were  two  small  but  not  uncomfortable 
apartments,  opening  one  into  the  other,  and  looking  out  on  a 
very  pretty  but  quite  unfrequented  part  of  the  park.  They  had 
often  been  used  when  any  of  Ellis's  children  or  grandchildren 
came  to  see  her,  and  were  in  consequence  almost  sufficiently 
habitable,  without  any  further  preparation,  except  the  turning 
one  into  a  sitting-room,  which  Ellis's  active  care  speedily  ac- 
complished. Her  mistress  inspected  them,  at  her  desire,  sug- 
gested one  or  two  additional  comforts,  and  then  held  a  long 
confidential  conversation  with  hei\  She  had  such  perfect  con- 
fidence in  her  (for  Ellis  had  been  from  a  child  —  married,  and 
become  mother  and  widow,  and  married  her  children  —  all  as  an 
inmate  of  the  Hamilton  family,  and  had  held  the  confidential 
post  of  housekeeper  for  sixteen  years)  that  she  did  not  hesitate 
one  moment  to  commit  Ellen  entirely  to  her  care,  at  least  till 
she  could  receive  an  answer  about  her  from  her  husband.  She 
depended  on  her  to  watch  over  her  health,  to  see  that  she  took 
daily  exei'cise  with  her,  in  those  parts  of  the  park  where  she 
was  not  likely  to  attract  notice,  as  being  with  her  instead  of  with 
any  member  of  her  family,  and  that  she  took  her  regular  meals ; 
to  be  with  her  whenever  she  took  them,  and  at  casual  times  in 
the  day,  not  so  as  to  remove  the  impression  of  solitude  and  dis- 
grace, but  to  be  enabled  to  watch  her  closely,  and  the  least 
symptom  of  a  softening  spirit  to  report  instantly  to  her. 

"  She  will,  of  course,  join  us  in  the  hours  of  devotion,  though 
not  occupying  her  usual  place,  for  she  who  has  lowered  herself, 
in  the  sight  of  God  and  man,  beneath  the  humblest  of  my  do- 
mestics, may  no  longer  kneel  above  them,"  she  said  in  conclu- 
sion. "  But  of  my  determination  on  the  point  she  is  already 
aware ;  and  she  will  go  with  us  as  usual  to  church ;  I  will  have 
no  remark  made,  further  than  I  can  avoid.  Be  as  kind  to  her 
as  you  can,  Ellis,  consistent  with  your  character  as  a  wise  and 
watchful  guardian.  God  in  mercy  grant  that  her  heart  may 
be  so  softened,  that  you  will  not  fill  that  painful  position  long. 
And  now  to  see  her." 

But  Percy's  watchful  care  had  so  quietly  interposed,  that  his 
mother  found  herself  in  their  usual  sitting-room,  and  in  the  midst 
of  them  all,  before  she  could  seek  Ellen :  and  when,  with  half 
reproach,  she  told  him,  that  she  had  still  a  most  painful  duty  to 
accomplish,  therefore  he  ought  not  to  have  prevented  it,  he  an- 
3wered  impetuously  — 

"Mother,  you  shall  not  see  Ellen  any  more  alons!  she  has 


282  HOMK    INFLUENCE. 

made  you  miserable  enough  already,  and  each  time  that  slit- 
pees  you,  her  deceitful  appearance  of  remorse  and  suffering,  for 
they  cannot  be  real,  or  she  would  speak,  but  add  to  it ;  send  for 
her  here,  and  tell  her  your  decision  before  us  all." 

And  Mrs.  Hamilton  complied,  for  she  felt  as  if  her  firmness 
would  be  less  likely  to  fail,  than  if  Ellen  attempted  any  thing 
like  supplication  with  her  alone.  But  not  a  word  of  supplica 
tion  came.  Ellen  had  answered  the  summons,  by  quietly  ac 
companying  Ellis,  who  had  been  sent  for  her,  to  her  aunt's  pre 
sence,  pale,  indeed,  as  marble,  but  so  tearless  and  still,  as  to 
seem  unmoved.  An  expression  of  actual  relief  stole  over  her 
features  as  she  heard  her  sentence,  undisturbed  even  when  told 
that  this  would  only  be,  till  Mr.  Hamilton's  sentence  came;  as, 
if  she  continued  silent  until  then,  of  course  whatever  severer 
measures  he  might  dictate  would  be  instantly  obeyed.  But 
when  Mrs.  Hamilton  proceeded  to  say  that  she  intended  writ- 
ing the  whole  affair  to  Edward,  that  his  influence  might  awaken 
her  to  a  sense  of  the  fearfully  aggravated  guilt  she  was  incurring 
by  her  silence,  an  expression  of  the  most  intense  agony  suc- 
ceeded the  previous  calm,  and  sinking  down  before  her,  Ellen 
wildly  implored  — 

"  Oh,  aunt  Emmeline,  in  mercy  spare  him !  do  not,  oh,  do 
not  throw  such  shame  upon  him,  he  who  is  so  brave,  admired, 
honored  !  do  not,  oh,  if  you  have  any  pity  left,  do  not  make  him 
hate  me,  loathe  me  too,  my  own  only  brother !  he  must  throw 
me  off.  How  can  he  bear  such  shame  upon  his  name  !  Oh, 
do,  with  me  more  than  you  have  said,  any  thing,  every  thing, 
but  that.  Spare  him !  " 

"  Spare  him  yourself,"  interposed  Percy,  sternly.  —  (lie  was 
standing,  with  his  arms  crossed,  by  a  window ;  Herbert  was 
leaning  at  the  back  of  Mrs.  Hamilton's  chair;  Caroline  and 
Miss  Harcourt  trying  very  steadily  to  work,  and  Emmeline 
bending  over  a  drawing,  which  her  tears  were  utterly  spoiling.) 
—  "  If  the  knowledge  of  your  sin  make  him  miserable,  as  it 
must,  be  yourself  the  one  to  save  him  — you  alone  can.  Speak  ; 
break  this  determined  and  most  guilty  silence,  and  his  influ- 
ence will  not  be  needed,  and  my  mother  will  be  silent  to  him 
concerning  what  has  passed,  now  and  forever,  as  we  will  all. 
If  you  so  love  him,  spare  him  the  shame  you  have  brought  on 
all  of  us  ;  if  not,  it  is  mere  words,  as  must  be  the  love  you  have 
professed  all  these  years  for  my  mother." 

Ellen  turned  her  face  toward  him  for  a  single  minute,  -arith 
such  an  expression  of  unutterable  misery,  that  he  turned  haHily 
away,  even  his  anger  in  part  subdued,  and  Mrs.  Hamilton  could 
scarcely  reply. 


HOME    INFLUENCE.  283 

**  I  cannot  grant  your  request,  Ellen,  for  to  refuse  it,  appears 
;o  me  the  only  means  of  softening  you.  It  may  be  a  full  fort- 
night before  I  can  write  to  Edward,  for  we  must  receive  letters 
first.  If  during  that  interval  you  choose  to  give  me  the  only 
proof  of  repentance  that  can  satisfy  me,  or  bring  the  least 
hope  of  returning  happiness  to  yourself,  I  shall  now  know  how 
to  act.  I  would  indeed  spare  your  brother  this  bitter  shame, 
but  if  you  continue  thus  obdurate,  no  entreaties  Avill  move  me. 
liise,  and  go  with  Ellis.  Punishment  and  misery,  repentance 
and  pardon,  are  all  before  you  ;  you  alone  can  choose.  I  shall 
interfere  no  more,  till  your  uncle's  sentence  comes."  And  long- 
ing to  end  this  painful  scene,  for  her  mistress's  sake,  Ellis  led 
Ellen  from  the  room,  and  conducted  her  to  the  apartments  as- 
signed her.  She  felt  much  to9  angry  and  annoyed  at  the  pain 
and  trouble  Ellen  was  giving  her  mistress,  to  evince  any  tiling 
like  kindness  toward  her  at  first,  but  she  had  not  been  under 
her  care  above  a  weelc  before  her  feelings  underwent  a  com- 
plete change. 

Suffering  as  she  was  enduring,  more  especially  from  the  con- 
viction, that  to  every  one  of  those  she  loved  (for  affection  for 
each  one  of  the  family  had  now  returned  with  almost  passionate 
violence)  she  must  be  an  object  of  hate  and  loathing,  yet  that 
her  sin  was  known,  was  a  relief  so  inexpressibly  blessed,  she 
felt  strengthened  to  endure  every  thing  else.  She  knew,  and 
her  God  knew,  the  agonized  temptation  to  the  momentary  act, 
and  the  cause  of  her  determined  silence.  She  felt  there  was 
strange  comfort  in  that ;  though  she  knew  no  punishment  could 
be  too  severe  for  the  sin  itself,  and  she  prayed  constantly  to  be 
enabled  to  bear  it,  and  still  not  to  betray  her  brother ;  and  the 
consequence  of  these  petitions  was  a  calm,  gentle,  deeply  sub- 
missive demeanor.  Not  a  murmur  ever  passed  her  lips,  and 
Ellis  scarcely  ever  saw  the  signs  of  tears,  which  she  longed  for  ; 
for  the  quiet,  but  fearfully  intense  suffering,  Ellen's  very  evi- 
dent daily  portion,  alarmed  her  for  its  effect  upon  her  always 
delicate  health.  As  yet,  however,  there  was  no  outward  ap- 
pearance of  its  failing,  it  rather  bore  up,  from  the  cessation  of 
the  nervous  dread  and  constant  terror,  which  she  had  endured 
before  ;  and  before  Mr.  Hamilton's  letter  arrived,  a  month  after 
the  fatal  discovery,  Ellis  had  drawn  her  own  conclusions,  and 
her  manner,  instead  of  being  distant  and  cold,  had  become  so 
excessively  kind  and  feeling,  that  the  poor  girl  felt  some  heavy 
change  must  be  impending,  she  dared  not  look  to  the  continu- 
ance of  such  comfort. 

But  Mrs.  Hamilton  never  saw  her  n'eee,  save  when  no  word* 


2H4  HOME    INFLUENCE. 

could  pass  between  them;  and  she  could  not  judge  as  Ellis  did. 
She  could  only  feel,  as  each  day  passed,  without  bringing  the 
desired  proof  of  sorrow  and  amendment,  more  and  more  bewil- 
dered, and  very  wretched.  Though,  for  her  children's  sake, 
she  so  conquered  the  feeling  as,  after  the  first  week,  to  restore 
cheerfulness,  and  promote  the  various  amusements  they  had 
all  so  enjoyed.  Ellen's  disappearance  had  of  course  to  be  ac- 
counted for,  to  the  intimate  friends  with  whom  they  so  con- 
stantly were  ;  but  her  acknowledgment  that  she  had  been  dis- 
appointed in  her,  and  that  her  conduct  would  not  allow  her 
any  social  or  domestic  indulgence,  at  least  for  a  time,  satisfied 
the  elder  members.  Annie,  for  the  first  time,  discovered  that 
Caroline  was  her  match  in  cleverness,  merely  from  her  exces- 
sive truth  and  simplicity,  and  that?  manoeuvre  as  she  might,  she 
could  not  discover  the  smallest  clew  to  this  sudden  mystery. 
And  Mary,  for  the  first  time,  and  on  this  one  subject  alone, 
found  Herbert  and  Einrneline  impenetrably  reserved. 

As  soon  as  Mrs.  Langford  had  been  informed  by  her  son,  at 
his  mistress's  desire,  of  the  unanswerable  proof  of  his  innocence, 
fihe  hastened  to  the  Hall,  and  requesting  a  private  interview 
with  Mrs.  Hamilton,  placed  at  once  in  her  hands  all  the  trinkets 
and  watch,  with  which  she  had  been  at  different  times  intrusted ; 
related  all  that  had  passed  between  her  and  Miss  Fortescue, 
the  excessive  misery  she  seemed  to  be  enduring ;  and  confessed 
that  the  few  pounds  she  had  given  her,  as  the  sums  obtained 
by  the  sale  of  the  trinkets,  she  had  advanced  herself,  having 
resolved  that  nothing  should  induce  her  to  dispose  of  them  ; 
and  that  of  course  it  was  the  difficulty  she  had  in  advancing 
their  right  value,  which  had  occasioned  the  length  of  time  that 
had  elapsed  since  Ellen  had  first  sought  her. 

"  Would  it  not  go  far  to  prove  she  really  did  wish  to  return 
the  money  ?  "  Mrs.  Hamilton  thought,  long  after  the  widow  had 
left  her,  and  the  sums  she  had  advanced  returned  with  interest. 
"  Was  it  to  return  the  fatally  appropriated  sum,  or  because  she 
needed  more  ?  Ellen  had  so  positively,  and  with  such  agony 
asserted  the  first,  that  it  was  scarcely  possible  to  disbelieve 
her  ;  but  what  was  this  fearful  diiliculty,  this  pressing  demand 
by  one  so  young  for  so  much  money  ?  Why,  if  it  were  com- 
paratively innocent,  would  she  not  speak  ? "  The  more  she 
thought,  the  more  perplexed  and  anxious  she  seemed  to  become. 
The  act  itself  of  endeavoring  to  dispose  of  the  trinkets,  espe- 
cially those  that  had  been  given  and  received,  as  doubly  valua- 
ble because  they  had  been  worn  by  her  mother,  would  have 
been  sufficiently  faulty  to  have  occasioned  natural  displeasure. 


HOJIE   INFLUENCE.  *85 

rmt  compaied  with,  other  known  and  unknown  faults,  it  sunk 
into'  almost  nothing.  Mrs.  Hamilton  collected  them  all  together, 
those  Mrs.  Langford  had  returned,  and  the  few  remaining  in 
lier  niece's  drawer,  and  carefully  put  them  away,  till  circum- 
stances might  authorize  her  returning  them  to  Ellen,  and  de- 
termined on  saying  nothing  more  on  the  subject  either  to  Ellen 
or  her  own  family. 

One  thing  Ellis  reported  to  her  regarding  Ellen,  which  cer- 
tainly seemed  like  a  consciousness  of  the  wrong  she  had  done 
llobert,  and  a  wish  to  atone  for  it.  She  begged  Ellis  so  earn- 
estly that  she  might  see  him,  if  it  were  only  for  five  minutes, 
that  she  could  not  resist  her ;  and  when  he  came,  she  implored 
him  so  touchingly,  so  pleadingly  to  forgive  her  long  silence 
himself,  and  entreat  his  mother  to  do  so  too  —  assuring  him,  that 
it  was  the  hope  of  being  able  to  restore  the  notes  to  him,  with- 
out revealing  her  identity,  which  had  caused  the  silence  —  that  it 
was  scarcely  possible  to  listen  to  her  unmoved.  It  was  no 
false  humility,  but  the  deepest,  most  unfeigned  contrition  for 
having  been  the  cause  of  injury. 

Ten  days  after  Ellen's  imprisonment,  the  letter  arrived  from 
Sir  Edward  Manly,  which  Mrs.  Hamilton  had  alluded  to  as 
necessary  to  be  received,  before  she  could  write  to  her  nephew, 
and  the  news  it  brought,  though  somewhat  alloyed,  would  at 
another  time  have  been  received  with  the  greatest  delight.  Ed 
ward  was  returning.  In  three  weeks,  or  a  month  at  the  utmost, 
after  the  receipt  of  his  commander's  letter,  he  might  be  witl 
them  all ;  invalided  home  for  a  three  or  four  months'  leave 
There  had  been  another,  and  rather  severe  engagement,  in 
which  young  Fortescue  had  still  more  distinguished  himself; 
but  from  his  headlong  courage  had  been  severely,  but  not  at  all 
seriously  hurt.  Sir  Edward  intended  sending  the  pirate  frigate 
which  they  had  taken  to  England,  as  she  was  a  tight-built,  well 
looking  craft  enough,  he  wrote,  if  manned  with  honorable  men 
instead  of  desperate  villains  ;  and  had  nominated  Harding  and 
Fortescue  to  accompany  the  second  lieutenant,  as  her  officers. 

The  name  of  Harding  produced  no  disagreeable  reminiscences 
in  Mrs.  Hamilton's  mind.  It  had  been  so  very  long  since  Ed- 
ward had  even  mentioned  him,  that  she  had  almost  forgotten 
his  early  fancy  for  him.  Her  only  thought  now  was  thankful- 
ness that  her  gallant  nephew  had  been  preserved,  and  that  he 
was  coming  home.  It  could  scarcely  be  pleasure  she  felt, 
th  xigh  all  the  young  party  did,  for  there  was  such  an  excite- 
ment in  Edward's  courage,  and  in  his  having  been  in  two  des- 
perate engagements,  and  seen  so  much,  that,  with  the  buoyancy 


28f>  HOME  INFLUENCE. 

happily  natural  to  well-disposed  youth,  they  could  only  think 
and  talk  of  his  return,  forgetting  the  alloy  that  must  cloud'  it 
Percy  and  Herbert  hoped  he  would  arrive  within  the  three 
weeks,  as  then  they  should  be  with  him  at  least  a  week  or  ten 
days.  If  delayed,  he  would  very  provokingly  just  arrive  as  they 
would  be  returning  to  college. 

After  much  painful  deliberation,  Mrs.  Hamilton  determined 
oil  making  Herbert  her  messenger  with  these  unexpected  tid- 
ings to  Ellen  ;  hoping  more  than  she  expressed  that  his  gentle 
eloquence  in  bringing  before  her  the  misery  to  which  she  must 
condemn  her  brother  if  she  would  persist  in  this  silence,  and  so 
compel  an  appeal  to  him,  would  have  some  effect ;  especially 
as  she  charged  him  to  impress  upon  her  that  even  now  confes- 
sion should  bring  pardon,  and  concealment  of  all  from  Edward. 
Herbert  gladly  undertook  the  mission,  and  so  feelingly,  so  earn- 
estly discharged  it,  that  poor  Ellen  felt  more  heart-broken  than 
she  had  done  yet,  and  almost  incapable  of  retaining  her  firm- 
ness. But  she  did ;  for  danger  to  Edward  seemed  more  immi- 
nent now  that  he  was  coming  home,  to  the  very  vicinity  of  his 
dreaded  uncle,  than  when  he  was  at  a  distance.  She  could 
only  feel  thankful  —  if  concealment  were  indeed  so  absolutely 
necessary  as  he  had  declared  it  to  be  —  that  Mr.  Hamilton  was 
still  from  home,  and  might  continue  to  be  so  during  Edward's 
visit.  It  was  difficult  to  repress  the  sickening  shudder,  when 
Herbert  chanced  to  mention  that  Harding  was  her  brother's 
companion  in  his  voyage  home,  and  difficult,  not  to  express 
more  disappointment  than  the  occasion  warranted,  that  Edward 
had  not  answered  her  last  letter.  He  must  have  received  it, 
Herbert  said,  for  Sir  Edward  acknowledged  his  father's  in 
which  hers  to  Edward  had  been  inclosed.  He  left  her,  after  a 
very  long  interview,  deeply  grieved  at  the  failure  of  all  his  per- 
suasions, all  his  remonstrances,  but  compelled,  he  could  not  sa- 
tisfactorily explain  why,  either  to  himself  or  to  his  family,  to 
pity  far  more  than  blame.  Percy  declared,  as  did  Caroline  and 
Miss  Ilarcourt,  that  it  must  be  only  his  own  too  kind  and  gentle 
disposition,  which  never  could  blame  anybody,  or  any  thing 
Mrs.  Hamilton  was  bitterly  disappointed ;  Mr.  Howard  insisted 
that  such  obduracy  demanded  nothing  but  the  sternest  treat- 
ment, and  he  only  wished  Mr.  Hamilton's  letter  could  arrive  at 
once.  He  saw  Ellen  again  himself  twice  in  the  five  weeks, 
which  elapsed  between  the  discovery  of  her  sin  and  the  arrival 
of  Mr.  Hamilton's  answer;  but  if  kindness  had  so  failed,  it  was 
comparatively  easy  to  resist  his  well-intentioned,  but  in  this  case 
utterly  mistaken  sternness.  He  was  in  general  so  kind  even  in 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  287 

his  judgments,  that  Mrs.  Hamilton  thought  he  must  have  some 
reason  to  believe  Ellen  so  thoroughly  hardened,  and  from  his 
report  of  her  was  enabled  to  impart  her  husband's  sentence  with 
more  firmness,  than  had  she  listened  to  her  own  kind,  still  lov- 
ing heart. 

It  was  as  she  and  Mr.  Howard  had  both  expected.  Ellen 
was  no  longer  to  remain  at  Oakwood,  but  to  be  placed  under 
the  cure  of  a  maiden  lady,  living  in  Yorkshire,  a  relation  of 
Mr.  Hamilton,  and  one  who  had  occasionally  visited  Oakwood, 
and  was,  therefore,  well  known  to  Mrs.  Hamilton,  and  to  Ellis 
too,  and  regarded  with  such  dislike  by  the  latter,  as  to  make 
her  actually  venture  to  entreat  her  mistress  not  to  send  Miss 
Ellen  to  her ;  she  was  sure  it  would  break  her  heart.  Now 
Miss  Seldon  was  one  of  the  worthiest  women  that  ever  breath- 
ed —  honest,  straightforward,  truth-speaking  literally  to  a  fault, 
but  as  hard  as  she  was  true.  Whether  she  ever  had  any  feel- 
ings or  not,  Mrs.  Hamilton,  with  all  her  penetration,  never 
could  discover;  but  the  good  she  did  was  immense  in  practical 
benevolence,  though  the  quick  sympathy,  the  kindly  word,  the 
indulgent  thought,  seemed  utterly  unknown.  She  had  no  pity 
for  faults  or  failings,  always  declaring  forbearance  and  love 
were  all  folly;  "if  a  branch  were  in  the  slightest  degree  de- 
cayed, cut  it  off;  if  the  blight  extend  to  the  root,  destroy  it," 
she  was  fond  of  saying.  As  for  youthful  follies  or  errors,  she 
had  no  patience  with  them,  for  never  having  been,  or  rather 
felt  young  herself,  she  could  not  understand  the  age  in  others. 
Ellis  had  not  discrimination  enough  to  discern  the  good  which 
lay  under  this  very  disagreeable  exterior;  Mrs.  Hamilton  had; 
and  suffering  as  she  knew  a  residence  with  her  must  be  to 
Ellen,  if  indeed  she  were  really  the  character  she  had  seemed 
in  childhood  —  though  the  last  few  months  had  so  contradicted 
it  —  she  felt  her  husband  had  decided  wisely,  spite  of  the  misery 
which  still  even  the  very  thought  of  sending  her  orphan  niece 
so  completely  from  her,  was  to  herself.  Mr.  Hamilton's  letter 
read  harshly,  but  his  wife  knew  his  high,  almost  stern  princi- 
ples ;  he  had  not  seen  Ellen's  evident  anguish ;  he  could  only 
judge  from  the  relation  which  had  been  sent  him,  and  all  which 
I  hat  told  was  indeed  against  her.  Of  course  he  said,  if  she  had 
confessed,  and  her  confession  in  any  degree  pleaded  for  her, 
bis  wife  would  use  her  own  judgment  as  to  the  period  of  her 
banishment;  but  he  could  not  imagine  any  cause  fcr  her  con- 
duct sufficiently  excusing,  as  to  demand  the  avoidance  of  hib 
»  *ntence  altogether. 

Miss   Seldon's  last  visit  to  Oakwood  was   sufficiently   well 


288  HOME    INFLUENCE. 

remembered  by  the  young  Hamiltons  (though  it  was  before 
their  cousins  had  arrived  from  India)  for  them  all  —  even  Percy 
and  Caroline,  the  most  indignant  against  Ellen  —  to  think  of 
their  father's  sentence  with  the  deepest  regret,  and  with  almost 
drefd  for  its  effect  on  Ellen. 

"  [f  she  did  but  know  her,  she  must  speak,"  was  Emmeline's 
exclamation.  "I  did  not  feel  quite  sure  that  I  was  my  own 
I  nippy  self,  all  the  tune  she  was  with  us." 

"The  atmosphere  was  frozen  twenty  degrees  below  zero  in 
all  the  rooms  she  frequented,  though  it  was  otherwise  a  hot 
summer,"  rejoined  Percy;  "and  in  Yorkshire  — " 

"  Pray  do  not  joke,  dear  Percy  ;  I  cannot  bear  to  think  of 
Ellen  going  away  from  us  at  all,  much  less  to  such  a  guardian, 
though  I  know  she  is  very  good,"  answered  Herbert. 

"Now,  my  good  fellow,  do  not  attempt  to  say  a  word  for 
Nancy  Seldon ;  she  was  the  only  person  in  the  world  I  ever 
heard  you  acknowledge  you  disliked;  so  what  must  she  be? 
Worthy !  no  doubt,  or  my  father  would  not  Lave  trusted  Ellen 
to  her,  but  for  any  thing  else — " 

"  Poor  Ellen !  she  little  knows  to  what  her  obstinacy  is  con- 
demning her,"  rejoined  Caroline ;  I  wish  she  did,  and  then  she 
might  spare  herself  and  mamma,  too ;  though  I  fear  even  con- 
fession would  not  help  her  much  now." 

Mrs.  Hamilton  might  and  did  think  with  them  all,  but  she 
could  not  swerve  from  her  duty.  She  wrote  at  once  to  Miss 
Seldon,  not  entering  into  particulars,  but  merely  asking  if  she 
would  consent  to  take  charge  of  a  relative,  whose  conduct  de- 
manded more  rigid  watchfulness  and  care,  and  an  entire  cessa- 
tion of  indulgence,  than  could  be  the  case  in  the  family  circle  at 
Oakwood.  She  and  her  husband  had  such  perfect  confidence 
in  her,  she  said,  that  if  she  could  oblige  them  by  undertaking 
the  duty,  they  knew,  without  any  assurance  on  her  part,  that 
she  would  discharge  it  faithfully.  The  yearly  sum  they  offered 
was  large,  because  they  wished  their  young  relative  to  have 
all  the  comforts  and  appurtenances  of  a  gentlewoman,  and  the 
advantages  of  the  best  education,  the  city  near  which  she  re- 
sided, could  afford.  Mrs.  Hamilton  had  no  doubt  of  the  affirm- 
ative nature  of  the  reply,  for  Miss  Seldon  owed  the  recovery 
of  her  fortune  and  position  entirely  to  the  exertions  of  Mr. 
Hamilton ;  and  she  had  told  him,  once  for  all,  that  if  she  could 
but  serve  or  oblige  him  in  any  way,  great  or  small,  it  would 
uiake  her  far  happier  than  she  had  ever  been,  or  was  likely  t<r 
.•e  in  her  solitary  life.  The  letter  written  and  despatched 
Mrs.  Hamilton  summoned  Ellen  once  more  to  her  presence. 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  289 

The  scene  was  again  the  library,  where  she  had  been  writ- 
ing, and  the  time  nearing  the  short  twilight  of  October.  It 
was  three  weeks,  rather  more,  since  Sir  Edward  Manly's  letter 
had  been  received,  and  Edward  was,  therefore,  almost  daily 
expected.  The  feelings  with  which  his  unhappy  sister  looked 
to  his  return  it  would  be  a  vain  attempt  to  define.  At  times 
the  intense  longing  to  see  him  again  caused  a  wild,  almost  sick 
feeling  of  pleasure,  that  she  might,  perhaps,  so  soon  do  so ; 
then  came  all  that  had  passed,  and  she  pictured  his  anger,  his 
loathing  —  true  it  had  been  for  him,  but  he  had  not  thought  of 
such  a  deed.  He  would,  he  must  hate  and  spurn  her,  too  ;  and 
the  idea  of  meeting  him  became  absolute  agony.  Then  —  and 
she  shuddered  in  dread  —  would  he  think  that  he  must  acknow- 
ledge it  was  for  him  she  had  thus  acted  ?  and,  if  so,  had  she  not 
betrayed  instead  of  saving  him  ?  Incident  after  incident  in 
their  childhood  rose  before  her,  to  give  her  hope  that  he  would 
be  silent  now  as  then,  and  not  betray  himself;  but  these  con- 
tending terrors,  united  with  the  constant  though  silent  suffering 
of  her  banishment  from  all  she  loved,  the  utter  hopelessness  as 
to  the  end  of  this  trial,  had  not  been  without  effect  on  the  out- 
ward frame.  Ellis  did  not  see  it,  from  so  constantly  watching 
her,  and  from  Ellen  never  refusing  to  take  the  exercise  she 
desired  her,  and  not  making  a  single  complaint  as  to  the  pain 
it  was  sometimes  to  walk,  and  always  to  swallow  her  meals ; 
but  as  she  stood  opposite  to  her  aunt,  in  the  full  light  of  the 
oriel  window  —  her  approach  had  been  so  noiseless,  Mrs.  Ha- 
milton, who  was  bending  over  some  papers,  did  not  see  her  till 
she  chanced  to  look  up  —  the  attenuation  of  form  and  feature 
was  so  very  visible,  that  her  aunt  could  not  prevent  herself 
from  starting  painfully,  and  the  words  with  which  she  had  in- 
tended to  address  her  froze  on  her  lips.  It  was  with  the  utmost 
difficulty  she  refrained  from  folding  her  to  her  heart,  and  try- 
ing, by  every  means  affection  could  devise,  to  soothe  or  remove 
that  anguish,  whatever  its  nature,  far  too  deep  and  constant 
for  one  so  very  young;  but  how  dared  she  do  this,  when,  by 
this  determined  silence,  Ellen  so  defied  her  authority,  and 
seemed  so  resolved  that  neither  severity  nor  kindness,  nor  her 
own  sufferings  should  humble  her  spirit,  though  they  had  even 
affected  her  frame  ? 

Conquering  with  a  powerful  effort  the  pleadings  of  affection, 
Mrs.  Hamilton  calmly  entered  on  the  subject  for  \rhich  she 
had  summoned  her,  reading  to  her  a  greater  part  of  her  uncle's 
letter,  hoping  that  its  severity  would  spare  her  the  pain  of  any 
additional  remarks.  Every  word  seemed  to  burn  itself  on 


HOME  INFLUENCE. 

Ellen's  brain.  What  she  had  hoped  she  knew  not,  for  she 
thought  she  had  never  hoped  at  all;  but  the  words,  "No  cause 
can  be  excusing  enougli  to  justify  the  entire  setting  aside  this 
sentence,"  seemed  by  its  agony  to  tell  her  that  the  thought  had 
entered  her  mind,  if  the  real  cause  were  by  any  chance  dis- 
covered would  she  be  forgiven,  and  in  time  restored  to  con- 
fidence and  love?  And  now  it  was  over,  even  that  hope  was 
gone. 

Mrs.  Hamilton  paused  for  a  reply  or  an  observation,  but  none 
came,  and  she  continued  impressively  —  "I  can  scarcely  hope, 
Ellen,  that  as  even  the  idea  of  sparing  your  only  brother  shame 
and  misery,  on  his  return  home,  expecting  nothing  but  joy, 
after  nearly  three  years'  separation  and  exposure  to  danger, 
has  had  no  effect  in  softening  you,  that  your  uncle's  sentence 
will.  Once  I  should  have  believed  that  only  the  thought  of 
leaving  me,  and  going  to  the  care  of  a  stranger,  would  have 
urged  you  to  speak  directly.  I  can  believe  this  no  longer ;  but 
as  I  wish  you  to  be  with  Edward,  at  least  part  of  his  stay  with 
us,  I  shall  postpone  your  leaving  us,  one  month  from  to-day. 
If,  indeed,  Edward's  influence  be  such  that,  for  his  sake,  you 
will  make  me  a  full  confession  and  answer  clearly  and  distinctly 
every  question  I  put  to  you,  your  residence  with  Mrs.  Seldon 
shall  be  limited  to  three,  six,  ten,  or  twelve  months,  according 
to  the  nature  of  the  motive  of  this  incomprehensible  and,  ap- 
parently most  sinful  conduct.  If  you  leave  us  still  obdurate, 
years  will,  in  all  probability,  pass  before  we  can  feel  sufficiently 
confident  in  the  restored  integrity  and  openness  of  your  cha- 
racter to  permit  your  return  to  us.  The  pain  you  are  inflicting 
upon  me  it  is  useless  to  dwell  upon.  As  the  child  of  my  only 
and  most  dearly  loved  sister,  I  have  loved  you,  hoped  for  you, 
with  little  less  intensity  of  affection  than  that  I  have  borne 
toward  my  own ;  for  I  felt  that,  with  the  sole  exception  of  your 
brother,  I  was  the  only  being  you  had  on  earth  united  to  you 
by  ties  of  blood.  How  this  conduct  repays  my  love  and  care 
you  must  answer  to  yourself;  I  can  only  be  sensible  of  bitter 
disappointment. 

Again  she  stopped,  evidently  expecting  a  reply,  but  Ellen 
still  remained  silent.  The  short  twilight  of  autumn  had  set  in 
so  suddenly,  that  Mrs.  Hamilton  was  not  aware  her  niece's 
cheek  had  become  still  paler,  and  that  her  white  lips  quivered 
repeatedly,  as  if  she  several  times  tried  to  speak,  but  could  not. 
After  a  silence  of  some  minutes,  she  said  — 

"If  you  are  determined  not  to  speak,  Ellen,  you  may  retire; 
I  have  told  you  all  I  wished  to  say,  except  that  till  you  leave 


HOME    INFLUENCE.  291 

us,  though  you  will  still  occupy  your  present  rooms,  and  be  still 
under  Ellis's  care,  you  are  at  liberty  to  employ  yourself,  and  go 
about  the  house  and  grounds  as  usual." 

EUen  turned  to  go,  still  in  that  unbroken  silence ;  she  had 
reached  the  low  step  dividing  the  upper  part  from  the  lower 
part  of  the  room,  and  whether  she  did  not  see  it,  or  from  some 
other  cause,  the  room  suddenly  reeled  before  her,  and  she  fell 
heavily  forward.  To  spring  toward  her,  raise  her  tenderly, 
bear  her  to  the  nearest  couch,  though  she  so  trembled  herself 
at  finding  Ellen  quite  insensible,  as  to  render  the  task  unusually 
dilficult,  and  to  ring  hastily  for  Ellis,  was  the  work  of  a  minute, 
but  it  was  many  minutes  before  their  united  efforts  could  bring 
back  consciousness. 

"  I  knew  it  would  break  her  heart,  poor  lamb !  "  was  Ellis's 
exclamation,  in  a  tone  of  most  unusual  excitement ;  "  thank 
God,  thank  God !  Master  Edward's  coming  home,  and  that  she 
is  not  to  go  till  he  does." 

"Have  you  so  much  confidence  in  his  influence?"  asked  her 
mistress,  as,  unable  to  resist  the  impulse,  she  bent  down  and 
repeatedly  kissed  the  cold  brow  and  cheek,  to  which  she  was  so 
sarnestly  striving  to  restore  warmth,  "  God  in  mercy  grant  you 
may  be  right !  " 

"  Right  ?  Dear  my  lady ! "  (whenever  Ellis  was  strongly 
moved,  she  always  so  addressed  her  mistress,)  "I  would  stake 
your  confidence  in  me,  which  is  all  my  life's  worth,  if  Master 
Edward  is  not  at  the  bottom  of  it  all,  and  that  this  poor  child 
is  sacrificing  herself  for  some  fancied  danger  to  him !  I  saw 
enough  of  that  work  when  they  were  young  children,  and  I  have 
noticed  enough  since  she  has  been  under  my  care." 

"  Edward ! "  repeated  Mrs.  Hamilton,  so  bewildered,  as  to 
stop  for  the  moment  chafing  Ellen's  cold  hand  ;  "  Edward ! 
bearing  the  high  character  he  does ;  what  can  he  have  to  do 
with  it  ?  " 

"I  don't  know,  my  lady,  but  I  am  sure  he  has.  Young 
men,  ay,  some  of  the  finest  and  bravest  among  us,  get  into  diffi- 
culties sometimes,  and  it  don't  touch  their  characters  as  their 
officers  see  them,  and  Master  Edward  was  always  so  terrified 
at  the  mere  thought  of  my  master  knowing  any  of  his  faults ; 
but  —  hush!  we  must  not  let  her  know  we  suspect  any  thing, 
poor  lamb ;  it  will  make  her  still  more  miserable.  You  are 
better  now,  dear  Miss  Ellen,  are  you  not  ?  "  she  added,  sooth- 
ingly, as  Ell-en  feebly  raised  her  hand  to  her  forehead,  and  then 
slowly  unclosed  her  eyes,  and  beheld  her  aunt  leaning  over 
her,  vfith  that  same  sxpression  of  anxious  affection,  which  her 


292  HOME  INFLUENCE. 

illness  had  so  often  caused  in  her  childhood.  Sense,  or  rathei 
memory,  had  not  quite  returned,  and  her  first  words  were  with 
a  faint  but  happy  smile  — 

"  I  am  better,  dear  aunt,  much  better ;  I  dare  say  I  shall 
soon  be  well."  But  it  was  only  a  momentary  forgetfujness  ; 
swift  as  thought  came  the  whole  of  what  had  so  lately  passed 
—  her  uncle's  letter,  her  aunt's  words,  and  murmuring,  in  a 
tone  how  painfully  changed!  "I  forgot  —  forgive  me,"  she 
buried  her  face  in  the  pillow. 

"  Ellen,  my  dear  Ellen  !  why  will  you  persist  in  making 
yourself  and  me  so  miserable,  when  a  few  words  would  make 
us  happier  ?  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Hamilton,  almost  imploringly,  as 
she  bent  over  her. 

"  Do  not  urge  her  now,  dear  my  lady,  she  is  not  well  enough  ; 
give  her  till  Master  Edward  comes ;  I  am  sure  she  will  not 
resist  him,"  answered  Ellis,  very  respectfully,  though  mean- 
ingly, as  her  look  drew  her  mistress's  attention  to  the  shudder 
which  convulsed  Ellen's  slight  frame,  at  the  mention  of  her 
brother. 

Pained  and  bewildered  more  than  ever,  Mrs.  Hamilton,  after 
waiting  till  the  faintness  seemed  quite  gone,  and  thinking  that 
if  the  restraint  of  her  presence  were  removed,  Ellen  might  be 
relieved  by  tears,  left  her,  desiring  Ellis  to  let  her  know  in  a 
short  time  how  she  was.  The  moment  the  door  closed,  Ellen 
threw  her  arms  round  Ellis's  neck,  exclaiming  passionately  — 

"Take  me  away  — take  me  away,  dear  Ellis  ;  I  cannot  bear 
this  room  —  it  seems  all  full  of  misery !  and  I  loved  it  so  once, 
and  I  shall  love  it  again,  when  I  am  miles  and  miles  away,  and 
cannot  see  it  —  nor  any  one  belonging  to  it.  Oh,  Ellis,  Ellis  ! 
I  knew  you  were  too  kind.  I  was  too  glad  and  contented  to  be 
with  you ;  it  was  not  punishment  enough  for  my  sin  —  and  I 
must  go  away  —  and  I  shall  never,  never  see  my  aunt  again  — 
I  know  I  shall  not.  Oh  !  if  I  might  but  die  first !  but  I  am  too 
wicked  for  that ;  it  is  only  the  good  that  die." 

And  almost  for  the  first  time  since  her  sin  had  been  discover- 
ed, she  gave  way  to  a  long  and  violent  fit  of  weeping,  which, 
though  terrible  while  it  lasted,  as  the  anguish  of  the  young 
always  is,  greatly  relieved  her,  and  enabled  her  after  that  day 
not  to  revert  in  words  (the  thought  never  left  her  till  a  still 
more  fearful  anxiety  deadened  it)  to  her  uncle's  sentence  again. 

Mrs.  Hamilton  sat  for  a  very  long  time  alone  after  she  had 
ieft  Ellen.  Ellis's  words  returned  to  her  again  and  again  so 
pertinaciously,  that  she  could  not  break  from  them.  Edward  ! 
the  cause  of  it  all  —  could  it  be  possible  ?  —  could  it  be,  that 


HOMi-    INFLUENCE.  293 

be  had  plunged  himself  into  difficulties,  and  afraid  to  apptal  to 
tis  uncle  or  her,  had  so  worked  on  Ellen  as  not  only  to  make 
her  send  relief,  but  actually  so  to  keep  his  secret,  as  to  endure 
every  thing  rather  than  betray  it  ?  Circumstance  after  circum- 
stance, thought  after  thought,  so  congregated  upon  her,  so 
seemed  to  burst  into  being,  and  flash  light  one  from  the  other, 
that  her  mind  ached  beneath  their  pressure.  Ellen's  unhappi- 
ness  the  day  his  last  letter  had  been  received,  her  sudden  ill- 
aces  —  had  it  taken  place  before  or  after  Robert  had  lost  the 
money  ?  She  could  not  satisfy  herself,  for  her  husband's  sud- 
den summons  to  Feroe,  hasty  preparations,  and  departure,  had 
rendered  all  the  month  confused  and  unsatisfactory  in  its  recol- 
lections. So  intense  was  the  relief  of  the  idea,  that  Mrs.  Ha- 
milton feared  to  encourage  it,  lest  it  should  prove  a  mere  fancy, 
and  urge  softer  feelings  toward  her  niece  than  ought  to  be. 
Even  the  supposition  made  her  heart  yearn  toward  her  with 
such  a  feeling  of  love,  almost  of  veneration,  for  the  determined 
self-devotion,  so  essentially  woman's  characteristic,  that  she 
resolutely  checked  its  ascendency.  All  her  previous  fancies 
that  Ellen  was  no  ordinary  child,  that  early  suffering  and  neg- 
lect had,  while  they  produced  some  childish  faults,  matured  and 
deepened  the  capabilities  of  endurance  and  control,  from  the 
consciousness  (or  rather  existence,  for  it  was  not  the  conscious- 
ness to  the  child  herself)  of  strong  feeling,  returned  to  her,  as 
if  determined  to  confirm  Ellis's  supposition.  The  disappear- 
ance of  her  allowance  ;  her  assertion,  that  she  was  seeking 
Mrs.  Langford's  cottage,  by  that  shorter  but  forbidden  path,  to 
try  and  get  her  to  dispose  of  her  trinkets,  when  the  wind  blew 
the  notes  to  her  hand — all  now  seemed  connected  one  with 
the  other,  and  confirmed.  She  could  well  understand,  how  in 
a  moment  of  almost  madness  they  might  have  been  used  with- 
out thought,  and  the  after-effect  upon  so  delicate  a  mind  and 
conscience.  Then,  in  contradiction  to  all  this  (a  mere  hypo- 
thesis raised  on  nothing  firmer  than  Ellis's  supposition)  came 
the  constantly  favorable  accounts  of  Edward  ;  his  captain's 
pride  and  confidence  in  him  ;  the  seeming  impossibility  that  lie 
could  get  into  such  difficulties,  and  what  were  they  ?  The 
same  of  Harding  rushed  on  her  mind,  she  knew  not  why  or 
how  —  but  it  made  her  tremble,  by  its  probable  explanation  of 
the  whole.  A  coarse  or  even  less  refined  mind,  would  have 
either  appealed  at  once  to  Ellen,  as  to  the  truth  of  this  suspi- 
cion, or  thought  herself  justified  in  looking  over  all  Edward'? 
letters  to  his  sister,  as  thus  to  discover  the  truth;  but  in  Mrs. 
Hamilton's  pure  mind  the  idea  never  even  entered,  though  all 

14 


294  HOME    INFLUENCE. 

her  niece's  papers  and  letters  were  in  her  actua.  possession 
She  could  only  feel  to  her  heart's  core  with  Ellis,  "  Thank 
God,  Master  Edward's  coming  home  !  "  and  pray  earnestly  that 
he  might  be  with  them,  as  they  hoped  and  anticipated,  in  a 
few,  a  very  few  days. 


CHAPTER   VII. 

THE    LIGHT    GLIMMERS. 

THE  earnest  wishes  and  prayers  of  Mrs.  Hamilton  and  her 
faithful  Ellis  were  disappointed.  The  latter  part  of  the  month 
of  September  had  been  exceedingly  stormy,  and  though  there 
was  a  lull  from  about  the  3d  to  the  9th  of  October,  the  equi- 
noctial gales  then  set  in  with  the  utmost  fury  ;  continuing  day 
after  day,  night  after  night,  till  the  ear  seemed  almost  to  tire 
of  the  sound,  and  the  mind,  anxious  for  friends  at  sea,  despair 
of  their  cessation.  During  the  few  calm  days,  the  young  party 
at  Oakwood  had  scarcely  been  absent  from  the  windows,  or 
from  that  part  of  the  park  leading  to  the  Plymouth  road,  above 
an  hour  at  a  time.  Percy  and  Herbert  rode  over  to  Plymouth, 
but  were  told  the  frigate  could  not  be  in  for  a  full  week.  The 
late  storms  must  have  detained  her,  though  she  was  a  fast-sail- 
ing craft.  It  was  a  great  disappointment  to  them,  for  on  the 
10th  of  October  college  term  began,  and  they  were  compelled 
to  return  to  Oxford.  The  cause  of  their  mother's  intense  desire 
for  Edward's  return,  indeed,  they  did  not  know  ;  but  they  were 
most  impatient  to  see  him,  and  they  hoped,  they  did  not  exactly 
know  what,  with  regard  to  his  influence  with  Ellen.  However, 
the  day  of  their  departure  came,  and  still  he  had  not  arrived, 
and  the  storms  had  recommenced.  Percy  had  gone  to  say 
good-by  to  Ellis,  with  whom  Ellen  chanced  at  that  moment  to 
be.  Full  of  spirits  and  jokes,  he  determinatcly  looked  away 
from  his  cousin,  took  both  Ellis's  hands,  and  shook  them  with 
his  usual  heartiness. 

"  Good-by,  dear  Ellis.  I  wonder  if  I  shall  ever  feel  myself 
a  man  when  talking  to  you.  How  many  tricks  I  have  played 
you  in  this  room,  and  you  were  always  so  good-natured,  even 
when  one  of  my  seat-crackers  set  your  best  gown  on  fire,  and 
ijuite  spoiled  it  ;  do  you  remember  it  ?  I  do  think  you  were 
nearly  angry  then,  and  quite  enough  to  make  you  ;  vnd  papa 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  29/) 

made  me  save  up  my  money  to  buy  you  a  new  dress.  I  did 
not  play  such  a  practical  joke  in  a  hurry  again." 

Ellis  laughed,  and  perfectly  remembered  it,  and  with  another 
hearty  good-by  he  turned  away. 

"  You  have  forgotten  your  cousin,  Mr.  Percy,"  she  said,  dis- 
regarding Ellen's  imploring  look. 

"  When  she  remembers  her  duty  to  my  mother,  I  will  re- 
member that  she  is  my  cousin,"  was  his  hasty  answer,  and  he 
hurried  from  the  room  as  Herbert  entered.  His  good-by  to 
Ellis  was  quite  as  warm  as  Percy's,  and  then  turning  to  Ellen, 
lie  put  his  arm  round  her,  kissed  her  cheek,  and  said,  with  im- 
pressive earnestness  — 

"  God  bless  you,  dear  Ellen !  I  hope  you  will  be  happier 
when  we  meet  again,"  and  that  it  will  not  be  so  long  before  we 
do,  as  we  fancy  now  ; "  and,  affected  almost  to  tears  at  the 
grateful,  humble  look  she  raised  to  his,  he  left  her. 

Overcome  as  much  by  the  harshness  of  the  generous,  warm- 
hearted Percy,  whom  she  so  dearly  loved,  as  by  the  gentle 
kindness  of  Herbert,  Ellen  remained  for  several  minutes  with 
her  arms  on  the  table,  her  face  hid  upon  them.  She  thought 
she  was  quite  alone,  for  Ellis  had  gone  about  some  of  her  busi- 
ness, when  she  was  startled  by  Percy's  voice. 

"  I  am  a  brute,  Ellen,  nothing  less ;  forgive  me,  and  say 
good-by.  I  can't  understand  it  at  all,  but  angry  as  I  am  with 
you,  your  pale  face  haunts  me  like  a  spectre,  so  we  must  part 
friends  ;  "  and  as  she  looked  hastily  up,  he  kissed  her  warmly 
twice,  and  ran  away  without  another  word. 

Days  passed  heavily,  the  gales  seeming  to  increase  in  vio- 
lence, and  causing  Mrs.  Hamilton  more  terrible  anxiety  and 
vague  dread  than  she  allowed  to  be  visible.  The  damage  among 
the  shipping  was  fearful,  and  the  very  supposed  vicinity  of  the 
frigate  to  the  Channel  increased  the  danger.  The  papers  every 
morning  presented  long  lists  of  ships  wrecked,  or  fatally  dis- 
mantled, loss  of  crews  or  part  of  them,  mails  and  cargoes  due 
but  missing ;  and  the  vivid  recollection  of  the  supposed  fate  of 
her  own  brother,  the  wretchedness  of  the  suspense  before  the 
fate  of  his  vessel  was  ascertained,  returned  to  heighten  the 
fears  that  would  gain  ascendency  for  her  nephew,  and  for  the 
effect  of  this  terrible  suspense  on  Ellen,  more  especially  —  if 
indeed  she  had  endured  all  these  weeks,  nay,  months,  of  misery 
for  him. 

At  first  Ellen  seemed  unconscious  that  there  was  any  thing 
remarkable  in  the  delay,  th-3  thought  of  her  own  departure 
b'iing  uppermost;  but  when  the  thought  did  press  upon  her, 


29o  HOME   INFLUENCE. 

how  it  came  she  knew  not  —  that  of  the  given  month  the  weeks 
were  passing,  and  Edward  had  not  arrived,  and  that  there 
must  be  some  reason  for  the  long  delay  —  storm,  shipwreck 
death,  all  flashed  apon  her  at  once,  and  almost  maddened  her. 
The  quiet  calm  of  endurance  gave  way.  She  could  not  sleep 
at  night  from  the  tremendous  winds ;  not  even  when  Ellis  had 
a  bed  put  up  in  har  room,  and  remained  with  her  all  night  her- 
self; she  never  complained  indeed,  but  hour  after  hour  she 
would  pace  her  room  and  the  passage  leading  to  Ellis's,  till 
compelled  to  cease  from  exhaustion  ;  she  would  try  steadily  to 
employ  herself  with  some  difficult  study,  and  succeed,  perhaps, 
for  half  an  hour,  but  then  remain  powerless,  or  recommence 
her  restless  walk.  Mrs.  Hamilton  made  several  attempts  with- 
out any  apparent  interference  on  her  part,  to  get  her  to  si 
occasionally  with  her  and  Miss  Harcourt,  and  her  cousins,  but 
she  seemed  to  shrink  from  them  all.  Emmeline,  indeed,  when 
once  aware  of  the  terrible  trial  she  was  enduring,  would  sit 
with  her,  drawing  or  working  as  if  nothing  had  occurred  to 
estrange  them,  and  try  to  cheer  her  by  talking  on  many  topics 
of  interest.  Caroline  would  speak  to  her  kindly  whenever  she 
saw  her.  Miss  Harcourt  alone  retained  her  indignation,  for 
no  suspicion  of  the  real  cause  of  her  silence  ever  entered  her 
mind. 

Poor  Ellen  felt  that  she  dared  not  indulge  in  the  comfort  this 
change  in  her  aunt's  and  cousins'  manner  produced.  She  wanted 
to  wean  herself  quite  from  them,  that  the  pang  of  separation 
might  be  less  severe,  but  she  only  seemed  to  succeed  in  loving 
them  more.  One  thought,  indeed,  at  length  took  such  entire 
possession  of  her  mind,  as  to  deaden  every  other :  —  it  was  the 
horrible  idea  that,  as  she  had  sinned  to  save  Edward,  perhaps, 
from  merited  disgrace,  he  would  be  taken  from  her ;  she  never 
breathed  it,  but  it  haunted  her  night  and  day.  Mr.  Maitland 
saw  her  continually,  but  he  plainly  told  Mrs.  Hamilton  while 
the  cause  of  anxiety  and  mental  suffering  lasted  he  could  do 
her  no  good.  It  was  a  constant  alternation  of  fearful  excitement 
and  complete  depression,  exhausting  the  whole  system.  Repose 
«.nd  kindness  — alas  !  the  latter  might  be  given,  but  the  former, 
in  the  present  position  of  affairs,  how  could  it  be  insured? 

The  month  of  grace  was  waning ;  only  two  days  remained, 
and  Edward  had  not  arrived,  and  how  could  Mrs.  Hamilton 
obey  her  husband  —  whose  every  letter  reiterated  his  hope  that 
she  had  not  been  prevailed  on  to  alter  his  sentence,  if  Ellen 
still  remained  silent  —  and  send  her  niece  from  her?  She  came 
at  length  to  the  determination,  that  if  another  week  passed  and 


HOME  INFLUENCE.  297 

still  there  \*ere  no  tidings,  not  to  let  this  fearful  self-sairifice, 
if  it  really  were  such,  last  any  longer,  but  gently,  cautiously, 
tenderly  as  she  could,  prevail  on  Ellen  to  confide  all  to  her, 
and  promise,  if  Edward  really  had  been  erring  and  in  difficulties, 
all  should  be  forgiven  for  her  sake,  and  even  his  uncle's  anger 
averted.  Once  her  determination  taken,  she  felt  better  enabled 
to  endure  an  anxiety  which  was  injuring  her  almost  as  much  as 
Ellen ;  and  she  turned  to  Ellis's  room,  which  she  had  lately 
very  often  frequented,  for  she  scarcely  felt  comfortable  when 
Ellen  was  out  of  her  sight,  though  she  had  full  confidence  in 
Ellis's  care. 

Ellen  was  asleep  on  a  sofa,  looking  so  wan,  so  haggard  —  so 
altered  from  the  Ellen  of  five  short  months  back,  that  Mrs. 
Hamilton  sat  down  by  her  side,  pondering  whether  she  was 
doing  right  to  wait  even  another  week,  before  she  should  try 
to  bring  relief  by  avowing  her  suspicions  —  but  would  it  bring 
relief?  and,  after  all,  was  it  for  Edward?  or,  had  she  been 
allowing  affection  and  imagination  to  mislead  and  soften,  when 
sternness  might  still  be  needed  ? 

Ellen  woke  with  a  start  as  from  some  fearful  dream,  and 
gazed  at  Mrs.  Hamilton  for  a  full  minute,  as  if  she  did  not 
know  her. 

"  My  dear  Ellen,  what  is  it  ?  You  have  been  sleeping  un- 
comfortably—  surely  you  know  me?" 

"I  thought  I  was  at  —  at — Seldon  Grange  —  are  you  sure  I 
am  not?  Dear  aunt  Emmeline,  do  tell  me  I  am  at  Oakwood, 
I  know  I  am  to  go,  and  very  soon ;  but  I  am  not  there  now, 
am  I  ?  "  and  she  put  one  hand  to  her  forehead,  and  gazed  hur- 
riedly and  fearfully  round  her,  while,  with  the  other,  she  held 
tightly  Mrs.  Hamilton's  dress.  There  was  something  alarming 
both  in  her  look  and  tone. 

"  No,  love,  you  are  with  me  still  at  Oakwood,  and  you  will 
not  go  from  me  till  you  have  been  with  Edward  some  little 
time.  You  cannot  think  I  would  send  you  away  now,  Ellen  ?  " 

The  sootaing  tone,  her  brother's  name,  seemed  to  disperse 
the  cloud,  and  bursting  into  tears,  she  exclaimed  — 

"  He  will  never  come  —  I  know  he  will  never  come  —  my 
tin  has  killed  him  ?  " 

"  Your  sin,  Ellen,  what  can  that  have  to  do  with  Edward  ? ' 

"Because,"  the  words  "it  was  for  him"  were  actually  on  her 
lips;  but  they  were  checked,  and,  in  increasing  excitemrnt,  she 
continues  —  "Nothing,  nothing,  indeed,  with  him — what  could 
it  have  ?  But  if  he  knows  it  —  oh,  it  will  so  grieve  him  ;  per- 
haps it  would  be  better  I  should  go  before  he  comes  —  and 
then  then,  he  need  not  know  it;  if,  indeed,  he  ever  comes." 


298  HOME   INFLUENCE. 

'•'I  do  not  think  you  quite  know  what  you  are  saying,  ray 
dear  Ellen ;  your  uncomfortable  dream  has  unsettled  you.  Try 
and  keep  quiet  for  an  hour,  and  you  will  be  better.  Remember, 
Buffering  as  this  dreadful  suspense  is,  your  brother  is  still  in  a 
Father's  gracious  keeping;  and  that  He  will  listen  to  ycur 
prayers  for  his  safety,  and  if  it  be  His  good  pleasure,  still 
restore  him  to  you." 

"My  prayers,"  answered  Ellen,  fearfully.  "Mr.  Howard 
said,  there  was  a  barrier  between  Him  and  me,  while  I  would 
not  confess ;  I  had  refused  His  mercy." 

"Can  you  confess  before  God,  Ellen?  Can  you  lay  your 
whole  heart  open  before  Him,  and  ask  Him  in  his  infinite 
mercy,  and  for  your  Saviour's  sake,  to  forgive  you  ?  " 

"I  could,  and  did  do  so,  answered  Ellen,  returning  Mrs. 
Hamilton's  earnestly  inquiring  look,  by  raising  her  targe,  ex- 
pressive eyes,  steadily  and  fearlessly,  to  her  face;  "but  Mr. 
Howard  told  me  it  was  a  mockery  and  sin  to  suppose  God 
would  hear  me  or  forgive  me  while  I  refused  to  obey  Him,  by 
being  silent  and  obdurate  to  you.  That  if  I  wished  His  for- 
giveness, I  must  prove  it  by  telling  the  whole  to  you,  whom 
His  commandments  desired  me  to  obey,  and  —  and  —  as  I  dared 
not  do  that,  I  have  been  afraid  to  pray."  And  the  shudder 
with  which  she  laid  her  head  again  upon  the  pillow,  betrayed 
the  misery  of  the  fear. 

"And  is  it  impossible,  quite  impossible  that  you  can  confide 
the  source  of  your  grief  and  difficulty  to  me,  Ellen  ?  Will  you 
not  do  so,  even  if  I  promise  forgiveness,  not  merely  to  you,  but 
to  all  who  may  have  erred?  Answer  me,  my  sweet  child;  your 
silence  is  fearfully  injuring  your  mind  and  body.  Why  do 
you  fancy  you  dare  not  tell  me  ?  " 

"  Because,  because  I  have  promised ! "  answered  Ellen,  in  a 
fearful  tone  of  returning  excitement,  and,  sitting  upright,  she 
clasped  her  hands  convulsively  together,  while  her  cheek  burned 
with  painful  brilliancy.  "Aunt  Emmeline  —  oh,  do  not,  pray 
do  not  speak  to  me  in  that  kind  tone !  be  harsh  and  cold  again. 
I  can  bear  it  better.  If  you  did  but  know  how  my  heart  and 
brain  arhe  —  how  they  long  to  tell  you  and  so  rest —  but  1  can- 
not —  1  dare  not  —  I  have  promised." 

"And  you  may  not  tell  me  whom  you  have  promised  ?  "  re- 
plied Mrs.  Hamilton,  every  former  thought  rendered  apparently 
null  and  vain  by  these  words,  and  painfully  disappointing  her; 
but  the  answer  terrified  her. 

"Mamma  —  I  promised  her,  and  she  stands  by  me  so  pak, 
BO  grieved,  whenever  1  think  of  telling  you,"  answered  Ellen 


HOME    INFLUENCE.  299 

slinging  to  Mrs.  Hamilton,  but  looking  with  a  strai'ied  gaze  of 
terror  on  vacancy.  "I  thought  I  must  have  told  ycu,  when  you 
said  I  was  to  go  —  to  go  to  Seldon  Grange  —  but  she  stood  by 
me  and  laid  her  hand  on  my  head,  and  it  was  so  cold,  so  heavy, 
I  don't  remember  any  thing  more  till  I  found  you  and  Ellis 
leaning  over  me ;  but  I  ought  not  to  tell  you  even  this.  I  know 
I  ought  not  —  for  look  —  look,  aunt  Emmeline !  —  don't  you 
see  mamma  —  there  —  quite  close  to  me ;  oh,  tell  her  to  forgive 
uie  —  I  Avill  keep  my  promise,"  and  shuddering  convulsively, 
she  hid  her  face  in  her  aunt's  dress. 

Mrs.  Hamilton  was  dreadfully  alarmed.  Whatever  the 
foundation,  and  she  had  no  doubt  that  there  was  some,  and  that 
it  really  had  to  do  with  Edward  and  his  poor  mother's  mistaken 
partiality,  Ellen's  imagination  was  evidently  disordered.  To 
•Attempt  obtaining  the  truth,  while  she  was  in  this  fearful  state 
of  excitement,  was  as  impossible  as  cruel,  and  she  tried  only  to 
soothe  her  to  composure ;  speaking  of  her  mother  as  happy  and 
in  Heaven  and  that  Ellen  had  thought  of  her  so  much,  as  was 
quite  natural  in  her  sorrow,  that  she  fancied  she  saw  her. 

"  It  is  not  reality,  love ;  if  she  could  see  and  speak  to  you,  I 
am  sure  it  would  be  to  tell  you  to  confide  all  your  sorrow  to 
me,  if  it  would  make  you  happier." 

"  Oh,  no,  no  —  I  should  be  very  wicked  if  it  made  me  hap- 
pier ;  I  ought  not  even  to  wish  to  tell  you.  But  Mr.  Myrvin  told 
me,  even  when  mamma  went  to  Heaven,  she  would  still  see  me, 
and  know  if  I  kept  my  promise,  and  tried  to  win  her  love,  by 
doing  what  I  know  she  wished,  even  after  she  was  dead ;  and  it 
was  almost  a  pleasure  to  do  so  till  now,  even  if  it  gave  me  pain 
and  made  me  unhappy ;  but  now,  now,  aunt  Emmeline,  I  know 
you  must  hate  me ;  you  never,  never  can  love  me  again  —  and 
that — that  is  so  hard  to  bear." 

"  Have  you  forgotten,  my  dear  Ellen,  the  blessed  assurance, 
there  is  more  joy  in  Heaven  over  one  sinner  that  repenteth, 
than  over  ninety-and-nine  who  have  not  sinned  ?  and  if  our 
Father  in  Heaven  can  so  feel,  so  act,  are  His  creatures  to  do 
tess  ?  Do  you  think,  because  you  have  given  me  pain,  and 
trouble  and  disappointment,  and  compelled  me  to  use  such  ex- 
treme severity,  and  cause  you  so  much  suffering,  that  it  will  be 
quite  impossible  for  me  to  love  you  again,  if  I  see  you  do  all 
ycu  can  to  win  back  that  love  ?  " 

Ellen  made  no  answer  ;  but  the  alarming  excitement  had  so 
far  subsided,  as  to  raise  the  hope  that  quietness  would  subdue 
it  altogether.  Mrs.  Hamilton  remained  with  her  till  she  seem- 
ed quite  calm,  and  would  not  have  left  her  then,  but  she  had 


WO  HOME   INFLUENCE. 

promised  Caroline  to  drive  with  her  into  T —  that  afternoon, 
to  make  some  purchases ;  Emmeline  and  Miss  Ilarcourt  were 
spending  the  day  at  Greville  JManor,  and  her  daughter  depend- 
ing on  her,  she  did  not  like  to  disappoint  her.  But  the  difficulty 
to  think  of  other  things,  and  cheerfully  converse  on  compara- 
tively indifferent  topics,  was  greater  than  she  had  ever  found  it. 
That  Ellis's  surmise  was  correct,  she  had  no  longer  the  smallest 
doubt.  Ellen  was  sacrificing  herself,  not  merely  for  the  love 
she  bore  her  brother,  but  from  some  real  or  imaginary  promise 
lo  her  poor  mother.  What  its  exact  nature  was,  she  could  not 
indeed  satisfy  herself,  but  that  it  had  something  to  do  with  con- 
cealing Edward's  faults  seemed  to  flash  upon  her,  she  hardly 
knew  how.  Ellis's  words  "  that  she  had  seen  enough  of  that 
work  when  they  were  children,"  returned  to  her,  and  various 
incongruities  in  Ellen's  character  and  conduct  which  she  had 
been  unable  to  reconcile  at  the  time,  all  seemed  connected  with 
it.  But  to  arrive  at  the  truth  was  much  more  difficult  than 
ever ;  still,  how  could  she  send  Ellen  away  ?  and  yet,  if  still 
silent,  would  mere  surmise  satisfy  her  husband  ?  There  wras 
but  one  hope,  one  ray  of  light  —  Edward's  own  honor,  if  indeed 
he  were  permitted  to  return  ;  and  even  while  driving  and  talk- 
ing with  Caroline,  her  heart  was  one  fervent  prayer  that  this 
might  be,  and  the  fearful  struggle  of  her  devoted  Ellen  cease. 

Her  aunt's  gentle  and  unexpected  kindness  had  had  such  a 
beneficial  effect  on  Ellen,  that,  after  her  early  dinner,  about 
three  o'clock,  she  told  I^llis  she  would  go  in  the  school-room, 
and  try  and  read  there  for  an  hour;  she  knew  all  the  family 
were  out,  and  therefore  would  be  quite  undisturbed.  Ellis 
willingly  acquiesced,  rejoicing  that  she  should  seek  any  change 
herself,  and  advised  her,  as  it  was  such  a  mild,  soft  afternoon, 
after  the  late  storms,  to  take  a  turn  on  the  terrace,  on  which  a 
glass-door  from  the  school-room  opened  ;  it  would  do  her  good. 
Ellen  meant  to  take  her  advice,  but  as  she  looked  out  from  a 
window  over  a  well-remembered  landscape,  so  many  painful 
thoughts  and  recollections  crowded  on  her,  that  she  lost  all  in- 
clination to  move.  She  had  not  stood  there  for  many  weeks, 
and  it  seemed  to  her  that  the  view  had  never  looked  so  very 
lovely.  The  trees  all  had  the  last  glories  of  autumn  —  for  it 
was  early  in  November  —  the  grass  was  of  that  beautiful 
humid  emerald  which  always  follows  heavy  rain,  and  though 
the  summer-flowers  liad  all  gone,  the  sheltered  beds  of  the 
garden,  lying  beneath  the  terrace,  presented  many  very  beauti- 
ful still.  The  end  of  the  terrace,  a  flight  of  stone  steps,  over- 
looked the  avenue,  leading  from  the  principal  lodge  to  the  main 


HOME    INFLUENCE.  301 

entrance,  and  where  Ellen  stood,  she  could  distinguish  a  few 
yards  of  the  path  where  it  issued  from  some  distant  trees.  She 
gazed  at  first,  conscious  only  that  she  was  banished  from  it  all, 
and  that,  however  long  her  departure  might  be  deferred,  she 
must  go  at  last,  for  her  uncle's  mandate  could  not  be  disobeyed  ; 
but  gradually  her  eye  became  fixed  as  in  fascination.  A  single 
figure  was  emerging  from  the  trees,  and  dressed  in  the  unifona 
of  a  midshipman  —  she  was  sure  it  was  !  but  it  was  a  figure  so 
tall,  so  slim,  his  step  so  lingering,  it  could  not  be  Edward,  most 
likely  some  one  of  his  messmates  come  to  tell  his  fate.  He  was 
taller  even  than  Percy,  but  so  much  slighter,  so  different  to  the 
boy  from  w,hom  she  had  parted,  that,  though  her  heart  bounded 
and  sunk  till  faintness  seemed  to  overpower  her,  she  could  not 
convince  herself  it  was  he.  With  an  almost  unconscious  effort 
she  ran  out,  through  the  glass-door  to  the  steps  of  the  terrace 
she  could  now  see  him  distinctly,  but  not  his  face,  for  his  cap 
was  low  over  his  forehead ;  but  as  he  approached,  he  paused, 
as  if  doubting  whether  to  go  up  to  the  hall  door,  or  the  well- 
known  terrace,  by  which  he  had  always  rushed  into  the  school- 
room, on  his  daily  return  from  Mr.  Howard's ;  and  as  he  looked 
hastily  up,  his  cap  fell  back,  and  his  eyes  met  Ellen's.  A  wild 
but  checked  scream  broke  from  her  lips,  and  all  was  an  im- 
penetrable mist  till  she  found  herself  in  her  brother's  arms,  in 
the  room  she  had  quitted,  his  lips  repeatedly  pressing  her  cheek 
pjid  forehead,  and  his  voice,  which  sounded  so  strange  —  it  did 
not  seem  like  Edward's,  it  was  so  much  more  deep  and  manly  — • 
entreating  her  to  speak  to  him,  and  tell  him  why  she  looked  so 
ill ;  but  still  her  heart  so  throbbed  she  could  not  speak.  She 
could  only  cling  close  to  him  and  look  intently  in  his  face,  which 
was  so  altered  from  the  happy,  laughing  boy,  that  had  he  not 
been,  from  his  extreme  paleness  and  attenuation  of  feature, 
still  more  like  their  mother  when  she  was  ill,  his  sister  would 
scarcely  have  known  him. 

"  Dearest  Ellen,  do  speak  to  me  ;  what  has  been  the  matter, 
that  you  look  so  pale  and  sad  ?  Are  you  not  glad  to  see  me  ?  " 

"  Glad  !  oh,  Edward,  you  cannot  know  how  glad  ;  I  thought 
you  would  never,  never  come,  the  storms  have  been  so  terrible  ; 
I  have  been  ill,  and  your  sudden  appearance  startled  me,  for  I 
had  thought  of  such  dreadful  things,  and  that  was  the  reason  I 
could  not  speak  at  first ;  but  I  am  sure  you  are  as  pale  as  I  am, 
deai-,  dear  Edward  ;  you  have  been  wounded  —  have  you  no', 
recovered  them  yet  ?  " 

"  My  wounds,  Ellen  !  oh,  they  were  slight  enough  ;  I  wished 
»nd  tried  for  them  to  be  severer,  to  have  done  for  me  at  oive, 


302  1IC  ME    INFLUENCE. 

brt  ihey  would  not,  they  only  bought  me  praise,  praise  which 
maddened  me  ! " 

"  Sir  Edward,"  murmured  Ellen,  in  a  low,  fearful  voice,  "  how 
did  he  part  with  you  ?  " 

£'  As  he  has  always  treated  me,  a  kind,  too  kind  father !  oh, 
Ellen,  Ellen,  if  he  did  but  know  the  deceiving  villain  that  I 


•1111 


"  Would  he  indeed  not  forgive,  Edward,  if  he  so  loves  you  ? 
not  if  he  knew  all,  the  temptation,  the  —  " 

"  Temptation,  Ellen !  what  excuse  ought  there  to  be  in 
temptation  ?  Why  was  I  such  a  fool,  such  a  madman,  to  allow 
myself  to  be  lured  into  error  again  and  again  by  that  villain, 
after  I  had  discovered  his  double  face,  and  I  had  been  warned 
against  him,  too  ?  Why  did  I  so  madly  disregard  Mr.  How- 
ard's and  my  uncle's  warning  letters,  trusting  my  self-will  and 
folly,  instead  of  their  experience  ?  Brave  !  I  am  the  veriest 
coward  that  ever  trod  the  deck,  because  I  could  not  bear  a 


sneer 


l  » 


"  And  he  ?  are  you  still  within  his  power  ?  "  inquired  Ellen, 
shrinking  in  terror  from  the  expression  of  her  brother's  face. 

"  No,  Ellen,  no  ;  God  forgive  me  —  I  have  tried  not  to  re- 
joice ;  the  death  was  so  terrible,  so  nearly  mjrj^vn,  that  I  stood 
appalled,  and,  for  the  first  time  these  two  years,  knelt  down  to 
my  God  for  pardon,  mercy  to  repent.  The  lightning  struck  him 
where  he  stood,  struck  him  beside  me,  leaving  the  withering 
smile  of  derisive  mockery,  with  which  he  had  that  moment  been 
regarding  me,  still  on  his  lips.  Why,  and  where  had  he  gone  ? 
lie,  who  denied  God  and  his  holy  Word,  turned  the  solemn 
service  into  mockery,  and  made  me  like  himself — and  why  was 
I  spared  ?  Oh,  Ellen,  I  have  no  words  to  describe  the  sensation 
of  that  moment !  "  lie  stopped,  and  shuddered,  then  continued, 
hurriedly,  "  Changed  as  I  am  in  appearance,  it  is  nothing  to  the 
change  within.  I  did  not  know  its  extent  till  now  that  I  am 
here  again,  and  all  my  happy  boyhood  comes  before  me  ;  aunt 
Emmeline's  gentle  lessons  of  piety  and  goodness  —  oh,  Ellen, 
Ellen,  what  have  been  their  fruits  ?  For  two  years  I  have 
given  myself  up  to  passion,  unrestrained  by  one  word,  one 
thought  of  prayer ;  I  dared,  sinful  madman  as  I  was,  to  make 
a  compact  with  my  own  conscience,  and  vow,  that  if  I  received 
the  relief  I  expected  from  you,  and  was  free  from  Harding,  I 
would  reform,  would  pray  for  the  strength  to  resist  temptation, 
which  I  had  not  in  myself;  arid  when,  when  the  man  that  was 
despatched  ty  Sir  Edward  from  the  shore,  with  the  letters  for 
the  crew,  sunk  beneath  the  waves,  bearing  every  despatch  along 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  303 

with  him,  I  cursed  him,  and  the  Fate,  which  had  ordained  his 
death.  Ellen,  Ellen  !  why  was  I  saved,  and  Harding  killed  ?  " 

"  And  you  never  received  my  letter,  Edward  ?  Never  knew 
if  I  had  tried  to  relieve  you  from  Harding's  power  ?  "  answered 
Ellen,  becoming  so  deadly  pale,  that  Edward  forced  himself  to 
regain  composure  ;  the  nature  of  his  information  causing  such 
a  revulsion  of  feeling  in  his  sister  as  to  deaden  her  to  the  horror 
of  his  words.  For  what  had  all  this  suffering  been  ? 

"  I  was  sure  you  had,  Ellen,  for  you  always  did,  and  I  could 
trust  you  as  I  could  myself.  A  sudden  squall  had  upset  the 
boat,  and  the  man  was  so  encumbered  by  a  large  great-coat, 
every  pocket  filled  with  letters  and  papers,  that  he  sunk  at  once 
though  every  help  was  offered.  I  threw  myself  into  the  sea  to 
save  him,  and  Lieutenant  Morley  praised  my  courage  and  bene- 
volence —  little  did  he  know  my  motive  !  Besides,  Sir  Edward 
told  me  there  was  an  inclosure  for  me  in  my  uncle's  to  him,  and 
regretted  he  had  not  kept  it  to  give  it  me  himself — would  to 
Heaven  he  had  ?  Till  Harding's  death  I  was  in  his  power ; 
and  he  had  so  used  it,  that  I  had  vowed,  on  our  arrival  in  Eng- 
land, to  abscond,  hide  myself  forever,  go  I  cared  not  where, 
nor  in  what  character !  But  he  is  dead,  and  I  am  free  ;  my 
tale  need  be  told  .0  none,  and  if  I  can  I  will  break  from  this 
fatal  spell,  and  redeem  the  past ;  but  it  seems,  as  if  fiends 
urged  me  still  to  the  path  of  evil !  Would  that  I  had  but  cou- 
rage to  tell  all  to  Mr.  Howard,  I  should  be  safer  then  ;  but  I 
cannot  —  cannot  —  the  risk  is  too  great.  Carriage  wheels  !  " 
he  added,  starting  up  —  "  my  aunt  and  Caroline  ;  oh,  how  I  re- 
joiced when  they  told  me  at  the  lodge  that  my  uncle  wf«,s  not 
here  !  "  And  in  his  extreme  agitation  at  the  thought  of  meet- 
ing his  aunt,  he  forgot  his  sister,  or  he  might  have  been  slartlea 
at  the  effect  o"  his  words. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE    STRUGGLE. 


Mus.  HAMILTON  had  been  told  at  the  lodge  of  her  m  phew's 
nrrival,  and  so  powerful  was  her  emotion,  that  she  leaned  back 
in  the  carriage,  as  it  drove  rapidly  from  the  lodge  to  the  Hall, 
without  the  power  of  uttering  a  word.  Caroline  was  surprised, 


304  HOME    INFLUENCE. 

for  his  return  seemed  to  her  only  a,  cause  of  rejoicing  ;  she  hud 
no  idea  of  the  mingled  dread  and  joy,  the  trembling,  lest  Ed- 
ward had  indeed  deceived  them  all,  and,  if  he  had  not,  the  re- 
doubled mystery  of  Ellen's  conduct.  While  he  was  absent  she 
could  think  calmly  on  him  as  the  cause  of  all,  but  now  that  he 
was  returned,  ner  heart  seemed  to  turn  sick  with  apprehension, 
and  she  had  hardly  strength  to  inquire  where  he  was,  and  great 
was  her  surprise  when  she  found  his  arrival  was  still  unknown. 
Caroline's  joyful  exclamation  as  she  ran  into  the  school-room 
to  put  away  some  of  her  purchases,  drew  her  there  at  once ; 
and  for  the  first  five  minutes  the  intense  thankfulness  that  he 
was  indeed  safe  and  comparatively  well  —  that  whatever  might 
be  the  secret  change,  his  affection  for  her,  to  judge  by  the 
warmth  and  agitation  of  his  embrace,  was  unchanged,  and  she 
had  that  to  work  on,  alone  occupied  her  mind  and  enabled  her 
to  regain  her  calmness. 

"You  do  indeed  look  as  if  you  wanted  English  air  and  home 
nursing,  my  dear  boy,"  she  said,  after  some  little  time  hud 
elapsed,  and  Edward  had  seated  himself  by  her,  his  hand  still 
clasped  in  hers;  "Sir  Edward  was  quite  right  to  invalid  you. 
Emmeline  does  nothing  but  talk  of  your  wounds  as  making  you 
a  complete  hero;  lam  unromuntic  enough  to  wish  that  you  had 
brought  me  home  more  color  and  more  flesh,  and  less  glory: 
but,  I  suppose  from  being  so  pale,  you  are  more  like  your  poor 
mother  than  ever;"  and  she  looked  at  him  so  earnestly,  that 
Edward's  eyes,  spite  of  all  his  efforts,  sunk  beneath  hers.  He 
answered  gayly,  however,  and,  in  reply  to  Caroline's  numerous 
queries,  entered  into  an  animated  description  of  their  voyage 
home  and  the  causes  of  their  detention,  in  their  being  so  often 
compelled  to  put  into  port  from  the  fearful  storms  they  had 
encountered,  and  time  slipped  away  so  fast  that  the  dinner-bell 
rung  before  any  one  was  prepared. 

That  Ellen  should  look  paler  than  even  when  she  had  left 
her  in  the  morning,  and  be  still  more  silent,  did  not  astonish 
Mrs.  Hamilton;  the  agitation  of  meeting  her  brother  was  quite 
enough  to  occasion  it;  and  she  advised  her  to  remain  quiet 
while  they  were  at  dinner,  that  she  might  rejoin  them  afterward. 
She  looked  as  if  she  had  been  so  very  lately  ill,  that  Edward 
was  not  surprised  at  her  having  dined  already;  but  many  little 
tilings  that  occurred  during  the  evening  —  her  excessive  quiet- 
ness, the  evident  restraint  between  her  and  Caroline,  and,  he  at 
first  fancied,  and  then  was  quite  certain,  between  her  and  Li:; 
mint,  startled  and  perplexed  him.  She  seemed  restrained  ami 
ehy,  too.  with  him,  as  if  in  constant  terror.  Poor  child!  hei 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  305 

Runt  had  advised  quietness  while  alone,  and  hei  brother's  words 
rung  in  her  ears,  till  repose  seemed  farther  off  than  ever.  After 
all  she  had  suffered  before,  and  after  the  sending  that  fatal  let- 
ter, it  had  never  reached  him :  she  had  utterly  failed  in  her  at- 
tempt to  save  him.  If  she  had,  indeed,  confided  at  first  in  Mrs. 
Hamilton,  measures  would  have  been  taken,  she  was  sure,  to 
have  secured  him  the  necessary  relief,  for  whenever  her  uncle 
had  sent  him  his  allowance  it  was  through  Sir  Edward,  not  en- 
countering the  risk  of  the  loss  of  the  letter.  There  had  been 
times  when,  in  the  midst  of  her  sufferings,  Ellen  could  realize 
a  sort  of  comfort  in  the  idea  that  she  had  saved  Edward  and 
kept  his  secret;  but  where  was  this  comfort  now?  All  she  had 
endured,  all  she  was  still  to  endure,  was  for  nothing,  worse  than 
nothing ;  for  if  Edward  knew  her  sin,  feeling  that  it  had  brought 
him  no  good,  and  given  up,  as  she  felt  he  must  be,  to  unrestrain- 
ed passion,  or  he  could  not  have  given  vent  to  such  fearful  sen- 
timents, she  actually  trembled  for  its  effect  upon  him  and  his 
anger  on  herself.  She  had  sometimes  fancied  that,  perhaps,  his 
errors  were  not  so  great  as  he  believed  them,  that  he  would 
confess  them  when  he  found  only  his  kind,  indulgent  aunt  at 
home,  and  so  peace  and  hope  gradually  dawn  for  both  him  and 
her.  All  her  wish,  her  hope  now  was  that  Mrs.  Hamilton 
could  be  prevailed  upon  not  to  tell  him  what  she  had  done,  for 
whether  it  made  him  think  he  ought  to  confess  himself  its  cause 
or  not,  its  effect  on  him  would  be  so  terrible,  that  she  felt  any 
additional  suffering  to  herself  could  be  better  borne. 

With  these  thoughts,  no  wonder  she  was  silent,  utterly  un- 
able to  subdue  them  as  she  wished,  and  evince  natural  interest 
in  all  that  had  occurred  to  Edward  ;  and  tell  him  all  that  had 
happened  to  herself  during  their  long  separation.  Caroline, 
however,  was  so  animated ;  and  when  Emmeline  and  Miss 
Harcourt  returned,  unable  to  comprehend  what  they  could  pos- 
sibly be  sent  for  a  full  hour  earlier  than  usual,  the  astonishment 
and  delight  at  seeing  Edward,  prevented  any  thing  like  a  pause 
in  conversation,  or  unnatural-  restraint.  His  cousins  found  so 
much  to  tell  as  well  as  to  listen  to,  about  Percy  and  Herbert, 
as  well  as  themselves  ;  and  Emmeline  made  Edward  teJl  her 
such  minute  particulars  of  their  engagements  with  the  pirates, 
and  how  he  was  wounded,  and  what  Sir  Edward  said  to  him, 
that  Mrs.  Hamilton,  anxious  as  she  was  —  for  the  longer  she 
was  with  her  nephew,  the  more  convinced  she  was  that  he 
could  not  meet  her  eye,  and  that  his  gayety  was  not  natural  — 
could  not  help  being  amused  in  spite  of  herself. 

Engro^-ed  with  thought  how  to  arrive  at  the  truth,  for  which 


306  HOME   INFLUtSOE. 

she  ardently  longed,  she  entered  the  library,  when  the  prayer- 
bell  rung,  with  her  children  ;  quite  forgetting,  till  ehe  had  taken 
the  place  at  the  reading-desk,  which,  in  the  absence  of  her 
husband  and  sons,  she  always  occupied  herself,  that  she  had 
intended  to  desire  Ellen  to  resume  her  usual  place  by  Emrae- 
line,  wishing  to  spare  her  any  additional  suffering,  the  firsi 
night  of  Edward's  return,  and  to  prevent  any  painful  feeling  on 
his  part.  It  was  an  oversight,  but  it  vexed  her  exceedingly. 
She  looked  hastily  round,  in  the  hope  of  being  hi  time,  but 
Ellen  was  already  in  her  place,  though  she  had  evidently 
shrunk  still  more  into  the  recess  of  the  lower  window,  as  if 
longing  for  its  massive  curtains  to  hide  her,  and  her  face  was 
buried  in  her  hands.  Mrs.  Hamilton  would  have  been  still 
more  grieved,  if  she  had  seen,  as  Ellis  did,  the  beseeching, 
humble  look,  which,  as  they  entered,  Ellen  had  fixed  upon  her, 
and  that  her  pale  lips  had  quivered  with  the  half-uttered  sup- 
plication, which  she  failed  in  courage  to  fully  pronounce.  Ed- 
ward appeared  too  wrapped  in  his  own  thoughts  to  notice  it 
then ;  and  as  his  aunt's  gentle  but  impressive  voice  fell  on  his 
ear,  the  words,  the  room,  the  whole  scene  so  recalled  the 
happy,  and  comparatively  innocent  past,  that  it  was  with  diffi- 
culty he  could  restrain  his  feelings,  till  the  attitude  of  kneeling 
permitted  them  full  vent  hi  tears,  actual  tears,  when  he  had 
thought  he  could  never  weep  again.  The  contrast  of  his  past 
and  present  self,  rendered  the  one  more  brightly  happy,  the 
other  more  intensely  dark  than  the  actual  reality.  The  un- 
checked faults  and  passions  of  his  early  childhood  had  been  the 
sole  cause  of  his  present  errors ;  but,  while  under  the  gentle 
control  of  his  aunt  and  uncle,  and  Mr.  Howard,  he  had  not 
known  these  faults,  and,  therefore,  believed  they  had  all  come 
since.  He  longed  intensely  to  confide  all  his  errors,  all  his  re- 
morse, to  Mr.  Howard,  whom  he  still  so  dearly  loved ;  but  he 
knew  he  had  not  courage  to  confess,  and  yet  hated  himself  for 
his  cowardice. 

Only  too  well  accustomed  to  control,  he  banished  every  trace 
of  tears  (from  all  save  the  eye  rendered  even  more  than  usual- 
ly penetrating  from  anxiety)  as  he  arose,  and  became  aware, 
for  the  first  time,  that  Ellen  was  not  where  he  was  accustomed 
to  see  her.  He  kissed  her  fondly  as  she  hurriedly  approached 
him ;  but  perceiving  she  left  the  room  with  merely  a  faint 
good-night  to  the  rest  of  the  family,  and  no  embrace,  as  usual, 
from  Mrs.  Hamilton,  he  darted  forward,  seized  his  aunt's  hand, 
and  exclaimed  — 

"What  is  the  mattei  y,  ;th  Ellen,  aunt  Emmeline  ?     Why  is 


HOME  INFLUENCE.  307 

she  so  changed,  and  why  is  your  manner  to  her  so  cold  and 
distant  ?  and  why  did  she  kneel  apart,  as  if  unworthy  to  join 
us  even  in  prayers  ?  Tell  me,  for  pity's  sake  !  " 

"Not  to-night,  my  dear  Edward.  It  is  a  long  tale,  and  a 
painful  one,  and  I  rely  on  you  to  help  me,  that  Ellen  and  my- 
self may  be  again  as  we  have  been.  It  is  as  much  pain  to  me 
as  to  her  that  we  are  not.  To-morrow,  I  promise  you,  you 
shall  know  all.  You  have  had  excitement  enough  for  to-day, 
and  after  your  exhausting  voyage  must  need  rest.  Do  not 
fancy  this  an  evasion  of  your  request ;  I  have  longed  for  your 
return  to  influence  Ellen,  almost  as  much  as  for  the  happiness 
of  seeing  you  again." 

Edward  was  compelled  to  be  satisfied  and  retire ;  but  though 
he  did  feel  sufficient  physical  exhaustion,  for  the  comfort  of  hi:, 
room  to  be  unusually  luxurious,  his  sleep  was  restless  and  dis 
turbed  by  frightful  dreams,  in  which,  however  varied  the  posi- 
tion, it  always  seemed  that  lie  was  in  danger,  and  Ellen  sacri- 
ficing herself  to  save  him. 

On  retiring  for  the  night,  Mrs.  Hamilton  discovered  a  note 
on  her  dressing-table.  She  thought  she  knew  the  writing,  but 
from  tremulousness  it  was  so  nearly  illegible,  that  it  was  with 
great  difficulty  she  deciphered  the  following  words  : 

"  I  am  so  conscious  I  ought  not  to  address  you,  know  so  well 
that  I  have  no  right  to  ask  any  favor  from  you,  when  I  have 
given  you  so  much  trouble  and  pain,  that  I  could  not  have 
asked  it,  if  you  had  not  been  so  very,  very  kind  this  morning. 
Oh !  aunt  Emmeline,  if  indeed  you  can  feel  any  pity  for  me, 
do  not,  pray,  do  not  tell  Edward  the  real  reason  of  my  banish- 
ment from  Oakwood  ;  tell  him  I  have  been  very  wicked  —  have 
refused  to  evince  any  real  repentance  —  but  do  not  tell  him 
what  I  have  done.  He  is  ill,  unhappy  at  having  to  resign  his 
profession  even  for  a  few  months.  Oh  !  spare  him  the  misery  of 
knowing  my  sin.  I  know  I  deserve  nothing  but  severity  from 
you  —  I  have  no  right  to  ask  this  —  but,  oh  !  if  you  have  ever 
loved  me,  do  not  refuse  it.  If  you  would  but  grant  it,  would 
but  say,  before  I  go,  that  in  time  you  will  forgive  me,  it  would 
be  such  comfort  to  the  miserable  —  ELLEN." 

Mrs.  Hamilton's  eyes  filled  with  tears  ;  the  word  "  your  " 
bad  evidently  been  written  originally,  but  partial  y  erased,  and 
•*  the  "  substituted  in  its  stead,  and  she  could  not  read  the  utter 
desolation  of  one  so  young, /which  that  simple  incident  betrayed, 
without  increase  of  pain  ;  yet  to  grant  her  request  was  impost- 


i)08  HOME   INFLUKNCK. 

l>le.  It  puzzled  her  —  for  why  should  she  so  persist  in  tie 
wish  expressed  from  the  beginning,  that  Edward  should  not 
know  it?  unless,  indeed  —  and  her  heart  hounded  with  the 
hope  —  that  she  feared  it  would  urge  him  to  confess  himself 
the  cause,  and  her  sacrifice  be  useless.  She  locked  up  the 
note,  which  she  would  not  read  again,  fearing  its  deep  humility, 
its  earnest  supplication,  would  turn  her  from  her  purpose,  and 
in  praying  fervently  for  guidance  and  fitful  sleep,  her  night 
passed. 

For  some  time  after  breakfast  the  following  morning,  Ed- 
ward and  his  aunt  were  alone  together  in  the  library.  It  was 
with  the  utmost  difficulty,  he  suppressed,  sufficiently  to  conceal, 
the  fearful  agitation  which  thrilled  through  every  nerve  as  he 
listened  to  the  tale  he  had  demanded.  '  He  could  not  doubt 
the  use  to  which  that  money  had  been  applied.  His  sister's 
silence  alone  would  have  confirmed  it ;  but  in  that  hour  of 
madness  —  for  what  else  is  passion  unrestrained  by  principle 
or  feeling  ?  —  he  was  only  conscious  of  anger,  fierce  anger, 
against  the  unhappy  girl  who  had  borne  so  much  for  him.  He 
had  utterly  forgotten  the  desperate  words  he  had  written.  He 
had  never  received  the  intended  relief.  Till  within  a  week,  a 
short  week  of  his  return,  he  had  been  in  Harding's  power,  and 
us  Ellen's  devotion  had  saved  him  nothing,  what  could  it  weigh 
against  the  maddening  conviction,  that  if  he  had  one  spark  of 
honor  remaining,  he  must  confess  that  he  had  caused  her  sin  ? 
Instead  of  saving,  she  had  betrayed  him  ;  and  he  left  his  aunt 
to  seek  Ellen,  so  evidently  disturbed  and  heated,  and  the  inter- 
view itself  had  been  so  little  satitfactory  in  softening  him,  as, 
she  had  hoped,  to  win  him  to  confession  at  once,  for  she  had 
purposely  spoken  as  indulgently  of  error  and  difficulty  as  she 
could,  without  betraying  her  strengthened  suspicions,  that  if  she 
had  known  how  to  do  so,  she  would  have  forbidden  his  seeing 
Ellen  till  he  was  more  calm. 

Unhappily,  too,  it  was  that  part  of  the  day  when  Ellis  was 
always  most  engaged,  and  she  was  not  even  in  her  own  room, 
BO  that  there  was  no  check  on  Pkl  ward's  violence.  The  control 
he  had  exercised  while  with  his  aunt  but  increased  passion 
when  it  was  removed.  He  poured  forth  the  bitterest  re- 
proaches —  asked  how  she  could  dare  hope  relief  so  obtained, 
would  ever  have  been  allowed  to  reach  him?  —  what  had  she 
done  but  betrayed  him  ?  for  how  could  he  be  such  a  dishon  )rcd 
it/ward  as  to  let  her  leave  Oakwood  because  she  would  not 
B!  eak  ?  and  why  had  she  not  spoken  ?  —  why  not  b  it  rayed  him 
ftl  once,  and  not  decoyed  him  home  to  disgrace  a.id  misery) 


HOME    INFLUENCE.  309 

Passion  had  sc  maddened  him  that  he  neither  knew  what  he 
said  himself,  nor  heard  her  imploring  entreaties  not  to  betray 
himself  and  she  never  would.  She  clung  to  his  knees  as  she 
Kneeled  before  him.  for  she  was  too  powerless  to  stand,  reite- 
rating her  supplication  in  a  tone  that  ought  to  have  recalled 
him  to  his  better  self,  but  that  better  self  had  been  too  long 
silenced,  and  infuriated  at  her  convulsive  efforts  to  detain  him, 
he  struck  her  with  sufficient  force  to  make  her,  more  by  the 
agony  of  a  blow  from  him,  than  the  pain  itself,  loose  her  hold 
at  once,  and  darted  from  the  room. 

The  hall  door  was  open,  and  he  rushed  through  it  unseen 
into  the  park,  flying  he  neither  knew  where  nor  cared,  but 
plunging  into  the  wildest  part.  How  he  arrived  at  one  par- 
ticular spot  he  knew  not,  for  it  was  one  which,  of  all  "others,  in 
that  moment  of  excitement,  he  would  gladly  have  avoided.  It 
was  a  small  glade  in  the  midst  of  the  wood,  shelving  down  to 
the  water's  edge,  where  he  and  Percy,  with  the  assistance  of 
Kobert,  had  been  permitted  to  erect  a  miniature  boat-house, 
and  where  Edward  had  kept  a  complete  flotilla  of  tiny  vessels. 
There  were  the  trees,  the  glade,  the  boat-house  still,  ay,  and 
the  vessels,  in  such  beautiful  repair  and  keeping,  that  it  brought 
back  the  past  so  vividly,  so  overpoweringly,  from  the  voiceless 
proof  which  it  was  of  the  affectionate  remembrance  with  which 
he  and  his  favorite  tastes  had  been  regarded,  even  in  his  ab- 
sence, that  he  could  not  bear  it.  He  flung  himself  full  length 
on  the  greensward,  and  as  thought  after  thought  came  back 
upon  him,  bringing  Ellen  before  him,  self-sacrificing,  devoted, 
always  interposing  between  him  and  anger,  as  she  had  done 
from  the  first  hour  they  had  been  inmates  of  Oakwood,  the 
thought  of  that  craven  blow,  those  mad  reproaches,  was  insup- 
portable ;  and  he  sobbed  for  nearly  an  hour  in  that  one  spot, 
longing  that  some  chance  would  but  bring  Mr.  Howard  to  him, 
that  he  might  relieve  that  fearful  remorse  at  once  ;  but  utterly 
unable  to  seek  him  of  himself. 

Edward's  disposition,  like  his  mother's,  was  naturally  much 
too  good  for  the  determined  pursuit  of  evil.  His  errors  had 
actually  been  much  less  grave,  than  from  Harding's  artful  repre- 
sentations he  imagined  them.  He  never  indulged  in  passion 
without  its  being  followed  by  the  most  agonized  remorse ;  but 
from  having  pertinaciously  banished  the  religion  which  his  aunt 
bad  so  tried  to  instil,  and  been  taught  by  Harding  to  scoff  at 
the  only  safe  guide  for  youth,  as  for  every  age,  God's  holy  Word. 
he  had  nothing  whereon  to  lean,  either  as  a  comfort  in  his  remorse, 
A  hope  fjr  amendment,  or  strength  far  self-^onque^t, ;  aid  terrr 


310  HOME   INFLUENCE. 

ble  indeed  might  have  been  the  consequences  ofHarding's  ft.tal 
influence,  if  the  influence  of  a  home  of  love  had  not  been  still 
stronger. 

Two  hours  after  he  had  quitted  his  aunt,  he  rejoined  the 
family,  tranquil,  but  bearing  such  evident  traces  of  a  mental 
struggle,  at  least  so  Mrs.  Hamilton  fancied,  for  no  one  else 
noticed  it,  that  she  still  hoped  she  did  not  exactly  know  what, 
for  she  failed  in  courage  to  ask  the  issue  of  his  interview  with 
Ellen.  She  contented  herself  with  desiring  Emmeline  to  tell 
her  cousin  to  bring  her  work  or  drawing,  and  join  them,  and 
she  was  so  surprised,  when  Emmeline  brought  back  word  that 
Ellen  had  said  she  had  much  rather  not,  that  she  sought  her 
herself. 

Ellen's  cheeks,  in  general  so  pale,  were  crimson,  her  eyes  in 
consequence  unnaturally  brilliant,  and  she  looked  altogether  so 
unlike  herself,  that  her  aunt  was  more  anxious  than  ever;  not 
did  her  manner,  when  asked  why  she  refused  to  join  them, 
when  Edward  had  so  lately  returned,  tend  to  decrease  the 
feeling. 

"  Emmeline  did  not  say  you  desired  it,  or  I  should  have  known 
better  than  disobey,"  was  her  reply,  and  it  was  scarcely  disre- 
spectful ;  the  tone  seemed  that  of  a  spirit,  crushed  and  goaded 
to  the  utmost,  and  so  utterly  unable  to  contend  more,  though 
every  nerve  was  quivering  with  pain.  Mrs.  Hamilton  felt  bitter 
pain  that  Ellen  at  length  did  indeed  shrink  from  her;  that  the 
disregard  of  her  entreaty  concerning  her  brother  appeared  so  to 
have  wounded,  that  it  had  shaken  the  affection  which  no  other 
suffering  had  had  power  to  move. 

"  I  do  not  desire  it,  Ellen,  though  I  wish  it,  she  replied, 
mildly ;  "  you  are  of  course  at  liberty  to  act  as  you  please, 
though  I  should  have  thought  it  most  natural  that,  not  having 
been  with  Edward  so  long,  you  should  wish  to  be  with  him  as 
much  as  possible  now  he  is  at  home." 

"  He  will  not  wish  it ;  he  hates  me,  spurns  me,  as  I  knew  he 
would,  if  he  knew  my  sin !  To-day  I  was  to  have  gone  to 
Seldon  Grange  ;  let  me  go  at  once !  then  neither  he,  nor  you, 
nor  any  one  need  be  tormented  with  me  any  more,  and  you  will 
all  be  happy  again ;  let  me  go,  aunt  Emmeline ;  what  should  1 
stay  for?" 

"  If  you  wish  it,  Ellen,  you  shall  go  next  week.  I  did  not 
imagine  that  under  any  circumstances,  you  could  have  expressed 
a  desire  to  leave  me,  or  suppose  that  it  would  make  me  par- 
ticularly happy  to  send  you  away." 

"  Why  should  it  not  ?    you  must  hate  me,  too,  or  —  or  you 


HOME    INFLUENCE.  311 

would  not  have  refused  the  only  —  only  favor  I  asked  you  before 
I  went,"  answered  poor  Ellen,  and  the  voice,  which  had  been 
unnaturally  clear,  was  choked  for  the  moment  with  sobs,  which 
she  resolutely  forced  back.  Mrs.  Hamilton  cculd  scarcely  bear 
it ;  taking  her  ice-cold  hands  in  both  hers,  she  said,  almost 
tenderly  — 

"You  hav3  reason  to  condemn  me  as  hai'sh  and  cruel,  Ellen ; 
but  time  will  perhaps  explain  the  motives  of  my  conduct,  as  I 
trust  and  pray  it  will  solve  the  mystery  of  yours ;  you  are  not 
well  enough  to  be  left  long  alone,  and  Ellis  is  so  much  engaged 
to-day  that  I  do  wish  you  to  be  with  me,  independent  of  your 
brother's  society.  If  you  so  much  prefer  remaining  here,  I  will 
stay  with  you,  though  of  course,  as  Edward  has  been  away 
from  us  so  long,  I  should  wish  to  be  with  him  also." 

It  was  almost  the  first  time  Mrs.  Hamilton  had  ever  had 
recourse  in  the  management  of  her  family  to  any  thing  that  was 
not  perfectly  straightforward ;  and  though  her  present  motives 
would  have  hallowed  much  deeper  stratagems,  her  pure  mind 
shrunk  from  her  own  words.  She  wished  Ellen  to  be  constantly 
in  Edward's  presence,  that  he  might  not  be  able  to  evade  the 
impulse  of  feeling  and  honor,  which  the  sight  of  such  suffering, 
she  thought,  must  call  forth ;  she  could  not  bear  to  enforce  thi* 
wish  as  a  command,  when  she  had  already  been,  as  she  fell  —  if 
Ellen's  silence  were  indeed  self-devotion,  not  guilt  —  so  cruelly 
and  so  unnecessarily  severe.  Ellen  made  neither  reply  nor 
resistance,  but,  taking  up  her  work,  accompanied  her  aunt  to 
the  usual  morning-room,  from  which  many  a  burst  of  happy 
laughter,  and  joyous  tones  were  echoing.  Caroline  and  Emme- 
line  were  so  full  of  enjoyment  at  Edward's  return,  had  so  many 
things  to  ask  and  tell,  were  so  perfectly  unsuspicious  as  to  his 
having  any  concern  with  his  sister's  fault,  that  if  they  did  once 
or  twice  think  him  less  lively  and  joyous,  than  when  he  left 
home,  they  attributed  it  simply  to  his  not  having  yet  recovered 
the  exhausting  voyage  and  his  wounds.  Miss  Harcourt,  just  as 
unsuspicious,  secretly  accused  Ellen  as  the  cause  of  his  occa- 
sional abstraction :  her  conduct  was  not  likely  to  pass  unfelt  by 
one  so  upright,  so  honorable,  and  if  he  had  been  harsh  with  her, 
AS  from  Ellen's  fearfully  shrinking  manner,  and  complete  silence 
when  they  were  together,  she  fancied,  she  thought  it  was  so 
deserved,  that  she  had  no  pity  for  her  whatever. 

The  day  passed  briskly  and  happily  enough,  in  seeming  to 
Mrs.  Hamilton  and  Edward,  in  reality  to  all  the  other  members 
of  the  party  —  but  one.  The  great  subject  of  regret  was  Mr. 
Howard's  absence;  he  might  be  back  at  the  rectory  that  eve- 


312  HOME    LNFLUENCE. 

ning,  and  Emmeline  was  sure  he  would  come  to  see  Edward 
directly.  As  the  hours  waned,  Ellen  became  sensible  of  a  sharp 
and  most  unusual  pain  darting  through  her  temples,  and  gra- 
dually extending  over  her  forehead  and  head,  till  she  could 
scarcely  move  her  eyes.  It  had  come  at  first  so  suddenly,  and 
lasting  so  short  a  time,  that  she  could  scarcely  define  what  il 
was,  or  why  she  should  have  felt  so  suddenly  sick  and  faint 
but  it  increased,  till  there  was  no  difficulty  in  tracing  it,  and  be 
fore  prayer-time,  had  become  such  fearful  agony,  that,  if  she 
had  not  been  inured  to  pain  of  all  kinds,  and  endowed  with 
extraordinary  fortitude  and  control,  she  must  more  than  once 
have  betrayed  it  by  either  giving  way  to  faintness,  or  scream- 
ing aloud.  She  had  overheard  Mrs.  Hamilton  desire  llobert 
to  request  Mr.  Maitland  to  come  to  Oakwood  as  soon  as  he 
could,  and  not  hearing  the  reply  that  he  was  not  expected 
home  till  late  at  night,  expected  him  every  moment,  and 
thought  he  would  give  her  something  to  relieve  it,  without  her 
complaining. 

Edward  had  asked  his  cousins  for  some  music,  and  then  to 
please  Emmeline,  had  sketched  the  order  of  their  engagement 
with  the  pirates,  and  no  one  noticed  her,  for  Mrs.  Hamilton's 
heart  was  sinking  with  disappointed  hope,  as  the  hours  passed, 
and  there  was  no  sign  to  prove  that  her  surmise  was  correct, 
and  if  it  were,  that  the  truth  would  be  obtained. 

The  prayer-bell  rung,  and  as  they  rose,  Edward's  eyes,  for 
the  first  time  since  she  had  joined  them,  sought  and  fixed  them- 
selves on  his  sister's  face.  The  paroxysm  of  pain  had  for  a 
few  minutes  subsided,  as  it  had  done  alternately  with  violence 
all  day,  but  it  had  left  her  so  ghastly  pale,  that  he  started  in 
actual  terror.  It  might  have  been  fancy,  but  he  thought  there 
was  the  trace  of  his  cowardly  blow  on  her  pale  forehead,  raised, 
and  black,  and  such  a  feeling  of  agony  and  remorse  rushed 
over  him,  that  it  was  with  difficulty  he  restrained  himself  from 
catching  her  in  his  arms,  and  beseeching  her  forgiveness  before 
them  all;  but  there  \vas  no  time  then,  and  they  proceeded  to 
the  library.  Every  step  Ellen  took  appeared  to  bring  back 
that  fearful  pain,  till  as  she  sat  down,  and  then  knelt  in  her 
place,  she  was  sensible  of  nothing  else. 

The  service  wras  over;  and  as  Mrs.  Hamilton  rose  from  the 
private  prayer,  with  which  each  individual  concluded  his  devo- 
tions, her  nephew  stood  before  her,  white  as  marble,  but  with 
an  expression  of  fixed  resolution,  which  made  her  heart  bound 
up  with  hope,  at  the  very  moment  it  turned  sick  and  faint  with 
terror. 


HOME    INFLUENCE.  ^l3 

Several  of  the  lower  domestics  had  quitted  the  library  before 
Edward  regained  voice,  and  his  first  word,  or  rather  action,  wag 
to  desire  those  that  remained  to  stay. 

"My  sister  has  been  disgraced,  exposed  before  you  all,"  he 
exclaimed,  in  a  tone  of  misery  and  determination,  that  so  start- 
led Miss  Harcourt  and  his  cousins,  they  gazed  at  him  bewilder- 
ed, "  and  before  you  all  must  be  her  exculpation.  It  was  less 
for  her  sin  than  her  silence,  and  for  the  increased  guilt  which 
that  appeared  to  conceal,  you  tell  me,  she  has  been  so  severely 
treated.  Aunt  Emmeline,  /am  the  cause  of  her  silence  —  I 
was  the  tempter  to  her  sin  —  I  have  deceived  my  commander, 
deceived  my  officers,  deceived  you  all  —  and  instead  of  being 
what  you  believe  me,  am  a  gambler  and  a  villain.  She  has 
saved  me  again  and  again  from  discovery  and  disgrace,  and  but 
for  her  sin  and  its  consequences  would  have  saved  me  now. 
But  what  has  sin  ever  done  but  to  betray  and  render  wretched? 
Take  Ellen  back  to  your  love  and  care,  aunt  Emmeh'ne,  and 
tell  my  uncle,  tell  Sir  Edward  the  wretch  I  am ! " 

For  a  full  minute  after  these  unexpected,  startling  words 
there  was  silence,  for  none  could  speak,  not  even  Emmeline, 
whose  first  thought  was  only  joy,  that  Ellen's  silence  was  not 
so  guilty  as  it  seemed.  Edward  had  crossed  his  arms  on  the 
reading-desk,  and  buried  his  face  upon  them.  The  instantane- 
ous change  of  sentiment  which  his  confession  excited  toward 
Ellen  in  those  most  prejudiced  can  scarcely  be  described;  but 
Mrs.  Hamilton,  now  that  the  words  she  had  longed  for,  prayed 
for,  had  been  spoken,  had  scarcely  strength  to  move.  Address 
Edward  she  could  not,  though  she  felt  far  more  pity  toward 
him  than  anger ;  she  looked  toward  Ellen,  who  still  remained 
kneeling,  though  Ellis  stood  close  by  her,  evidently  trying  to 
rouse  her,  and  with  a  step  far  more  hurried,  more  agitated  than 
her  children  or  household  had  ever  seen,  she  traversed  the 
long  room,  and  stood  beside  her  niece. 

"Ellen,"  she  said,  as  she  tried  to  remove  the  hands  which 
clasped  the  burning  forehead,  as  if  their  rooted  pressure  could 
alone  still  that  agonizing  pain,  "my  own  darling,  devoted  Ellen  ! 
look  up,  and  forgive  me  all  the  misery  I  have  caused  you. 
Speak  to  me,  my  child  !  there  is  nothing  to  conceal  now,  all 
shall  be  forgiven  —  Edward's  errors,  difficulties,  all  for  your 
sake,  and  he  will  not,  I  know  he  will  not,  cause  you  wretched- 
ness again  ;  look  up,  my  poor  child  ;  speak  to  me,  tell  me  you 
forgive  me." 

Ellen  unclasped  her  hands  from  her  forhead,  and  looked  up 
iu  Mrs.  Hamilton's  Aice.  Her  lips  moved  as  if  to  speak,  but 


314  HOME  INFLUENCE. 

in  a  moment  an  expression  of  agony  flitted  over  her  face,  a  cry 
broke  from  her  of  such  fearful  physical  pain,  that  it  thrilled 
through  the  hearts  of  all  who  heard,  and  consciousness  desert- 
ed her  at  the  same  moment  that  Mr.  Maitland  and  Mr.  Howard 
entered  the  room  together. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

ILLNESS    AND    REMORSE. 

IT  was  indeed  a  fearful  night  which  followed  the  close  of  our 
laist  chapter.  Illness,  sufficient  to  occasion  anxiety,  both  in 
Herbert  and  Ellen,  had  been  often  an  inmate  of  Oakwood,  but 
it  had  merely  called  for  care,  and  all  those  kindly  sympathies, 
which  render  indisposition  sometimes  an  actual  blessing,  both 
to  those  who  suffer  and  those  who  tend.  But  illness,  appearing 
to  be  but  the  ghastly  vehicle  of  death,  clothed  in  such  fearful 
pain  that  no  control,  even  of  reason  and  strong  will,  can  check 
its  agonized  expression,  till  at  last,  reason  itself  sutcumbs 
beneath  it,  and  bears  the  mind  from  the  tortured  frame,  this  is 
a  trial  of  no  ordinary  suffering,  even  when  such  illness  has  been 
brought  about  by  what  may  be  termed  natural  causes.  But 
when  it  follows,  nay,  springs  from  mental  anguish,  when  the 
sad  watchers  feel  that  it  might  have  been  averted,  that  it  is  the 
consequence  of  mistaken  treatment,  and  it  comes  to  the  young, 
to  whom  such  sorrow  ought  to  be  a  thing  unknown,  was  it  mar- 
vel that  Mrs.  Hamilton,  as  she  stood  by  Ellen's  bed,  watching 
the  alternations  of  deathlike  insensibility  with  paroxysms  of 
pain,  which  nothing  could  relieve,  (for  it  was  only  the  com- 
mencement of  brain  fever,)  felt  as  if  she  had  indeed  never 
known  grief  or  anxiety  before.  She  had  looked  forward  to  Ed- 
ward's confession  bringing  hope  and  rest  to  all ;  that  the  aching 
head  and  strained  nerves  of  her  poor  Ellen,  only  needed  re- 
turning love,  and  the  quietness  of  assured  forgiveness  for  herself 
and  Edward,  for  health  and  happiness  gradually  to  return  ;  and 
the  shock  of  such  sudden  and  terrible  illness,  betraying,  as  it  did 
AH  extent  of  previous  mental  suffering,  which  she  had  not  con- 
ceived as  possible  in  one  so  young,  almost  unnerved  her.  But 
hers  was  not  a  character  to  give  way;  the  anguish  she  ex- 
periencod  might  be  read  in  the  almost  stern  quiet  of  her  face 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  315 

in  hei  gentle  but  firm  resistance  to  every  persuasion  to  luove 
from  Ellen's  bed,  not  only  through  that  dreadful  night,  but  for 
the  week  which  followed.  The  idea  of  death  was  absolute 
agony ;  none  but  her  God  knew  the  struggle,  day  after  day, 
night  after  night,  which  she  endured,  to  compel  her  rebellious 
spirit  to  submission  to  His  will,  whatever  it  might  be.  She 
knew  earth's  dearest,  most  unalloyed  happiness  could  not  com- 
pare with  that  of  Heaven,  if  indeed  it  should  be  His  pleasure 
to  recall  her  ;  but  the  thought  would  not  bring  peace.  She  had 
no  reason  to  reproach  herself,  for  she  had  acted  only  as  impera- 
tive duty  demanded,  and  it  had  caused  her  almost  as  much 
misery  as  Ellen.  But  yet  the  thought  would  not  leave  her,  that 
her  harshness  and  cruelty  had  caused  all  the  suffering  she  be- 
held. She  did  not  utter  those  thoughts  aloud,  she  did  not  dare 
give  words  to  that  deep  wretchedness,  for  she  felt  her  only  sus- 
taining strength  was  in  her  God.  The  only  one  who  would 
have  read  her  heart,  and  given  sympathy,  strength,  comfort, 
without  a  word  from  her,  her  husband,  was  far  away,  and  she 
dared  not  sink  ;  though  there  were  times  when  heart  and  frame 
felt  so  utterly  exhausted,  it  seemed  as  if  she  must. 

Mr.  Howard's  presence  had  been  an  inexpressible  relief. 
"  Go  to  Edward,  my  dear  friend,"  she  had  said,  as  he  lingered 
beside  the  bed  where  Ellen  had  been  laid,  longing  to  comfort, 
but  feeling  at  such  a  moment  it  was  impossible  ;  "  he  wants 
you  more  than  any  one  else  ;  win  him  to  confide  in  you,  soothe, 
comfort  him  ;  do  not  let  him  be  out  of  your  sight." 

Not  understanding  her,  except  that  Edward  must  be  natur- 
ally grieved  at  his  sister's  illness,  Mr.  Howard  sought  him,  and 
found  him  still  in  the  library-,  almost  in  the  same  spot. 

"  This  is  a  sad  welcome  for  you,  Edward,"  he  said,  kindly 
laying  his  hand  on  his  shoulder,  but  do  not  be  too  much  cast 
down.  Ellen  is  very  young,  her  constitution,  Mr.  Maitland  as- 
sures us,  is  good,  and  she  may  be  spared  us  yet.  I  came  over 
on  purpose  to  see  you,  for  late  as  it  was  when  I  returned  from 
Exeter,  and  found  you  had  arrived,  I  would  not  defer  it  till  to- 
morrow." 

"  You  thought  you  came  to  see  the  pupil  you  so  loved,"  an- 
swered Edward,  raising  his  head,  and  startling  Mr.  Howard, 
both  by  his  tone  and  countenance.  "  You  do  not  know  that  I 
am  the  cause  of  my  poor  sister's  suffering,  that  if  she  dies,  I 
am  her  murderer.  Oh,  Mr.  Howard,"  he  continued,  suddenly 
throwing  himself  in  his  arms,  and  bursting  into  passionate  tears, 
"  why  did  I  ever  leave  you  ?  why  did  I  forget  your  counsels, 
yorr  goodne?s,  throw  your  warning  letter  to  the  winds  ?  Hate 


316  HOME   INFLUENCE. 

me  .f  you  will,  but  listen  to  me  —  pity  me,  save  me  from  my- 
self.' 

Starlled  as  he  was,  Mr.  Howard,  well  acquainted  with  the 
human  hefirt,  its  errors,  as  well  as  its  better  impulses,  knew 
how  to  answer  this  passionate  appeal,  so  as  to  invite  its  full 
confidence  and  soothe  at  the  same  time.  Edward  poured  out 
his  whole  tale.  It  is  needless  to  enter  upon  it  here  in  detail ; 
suffice  it,  that  the  artful  influence  of  Harding,  by  gradually 
undermining  the  good  impressions  of  the  home  he  had  left,  had 
prepared  his  pupil  for  an  unlimited  indulgence  in  pleasure,  and 
excitement,  at  every  opportunity  which  offered.  And  as  the 
Prince  William  was  cruising  off  the  coast  of  British  America, 
and  constantly  touching  at  one  or  other  of  her  ports,  where 
Harding,  from  his  seniority  and  usefulness,  and  Edward,  from 
his  invariable  good  conduct,  were  often  permitted  to  go  ashore  ; 
these  opportunities,  especially  when  they  were  looked  for  and 
used  by  one  practised  in  deceit  and  wickedness,  were  often 
found.  It  does  not  require  a  long  period  to  initiate  in  gambling. 
The  very  compelled  restraint,  in  the  intervals  of  its  indulgence, 
but  increased  its  maddening  excitement,  and  once  given  up  to 
its  blind  pursuit,  Harding  became  more  than  ever  necessary  to 
Edward,  and  of  course  his  power  over  him  increased.  But 
when  he  tried  to  make  him  a  sharer  and  conniver  in  his  own 
low  pleasures,  to  teach  him  vice,  cautiously  as  he  thought  he 
had  worked,  he  failed ;  Edward  started  back  appalled,  and 
though  unhappily  he  could  not  break  from  him,  from  that  hour 
he  misdoubted  and  shrunk  away.  But  he  had  given  an  advan- 
tage to  his  fell  tutor,  the  extent  of  which  he  knew  not  himself. 
Harding  was  too  well  versed  in  art  to  betray  disappointment. 
He  knew  when  to  bring  wine  to  the  billiard-table,  so  to  create 
such  a  delirium  of  excitement,  that  Edward  was  wholly  tincon 
scious  of  his  own  actions  ;  and  once  or  twice  he  led  him  into 
scenes,  and  made  him  sharer  of  such  vicious  pleasures,  that  se- 
cured him  as  his  slave  ;  for  when  the  excitement  was  over,  the 
agony  of  remorse,  the  misery,  lest  his  confiding  captain  should 
suspect  him  other  than  he  seemed,  made  him  cling  to  Harding' s 
promises  of  secrecy,  as  his  only  refuge,  even  while  he  loathed 
the  man  himself.  It  was  easy  to  make  such  a  disposition  be- 
lieve that  he  had,  in  some  moment  of  excitement,  done  some- 
thing which,  if  known,  would  expel  him  the  Navy ;  Edward 
could  never  recall  what,  but  he  believed  him,  and  became  des- 
perate. Harding  told  him  it  was  downright  folly  to  think  about 
it  so  seriously.  It  was  only  known  to  him,  and  he  woulil  not 
betray  him.  But  Edward  writhed  beneath  his  power;  jerpe 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  317 

lie  called  on  him  for  pecuniary  help,  and  when  he  had 
none,  told  him  he  must  write  home  for  it,  or  win  it  at  the  bil- 
liard-table, or  he  knew  the  consequences  ;  and  Edward,  though 
again  and  again  he  had  resolved  he  would  not  touch  a  ball  or 
cue,  (and  the  remorse  had  been  such,  that  he  would  no  doubt 
have  kept  the  resolve,  had  it  not  been  for  dread  of  betrayal,) 
rather  than  write  home,  would  madly  seek  the  first  opportunity, 
and  play,  and  win  perhaps  enough,  all  but  a  few  pounds,  to 
satisfy  his  tormentor,  and  for  these  he  would  appeal  to  his 
sister,  and  receive  them,  as  we  know ;  never  asking,  and  so 
never  hearing,  the  heavy  price  of  individual  suffering  at  which 
they  were  obtained. 

The  seven  or  eight  months  which  had  elapsed  before  his  last 
fatal  appeal,  had  been  occasioned  by  the  ship  being  out  at  sea. 
Sir  Edward  had  mentioned  to  Mr.  Hamilton,  that  Edward's 
excellent  conduct  on  board  had  given  him  a  longer  holiday  on 
shore,  when  they  were  off  New  York,  to  which  place  he  had 
been  despatched  on  business  to  the  President,  than  most  of  his 
companions.  Edward  thought  himself  safe,  for  Harding  had 
been  unusually  quiet;  but  the  very  day  they  neared  land,  he 
told  him  he  must  have  some  cash,  sneered  at  the  trifling  sum 
Edward  had  by  him,  told  him  if  he  chose  to  let  him  try  for  it 
fairly,  they  should  have  a  chance  at  billiards  for  it ;  but  if  that 
fail,  he  must  pump  his  rich  relations  for  it,  for  have  it  he  must. 
Trusting  to  his  luck,  for  he  had  often  won,  even  with  Harding 
he  rushed  to  the  table,  played,  and  as  might  be  expected,  left 
off,  owing  his  tormentor  fifty  pounds.  Harding's  fiendish  tri- 
umph, and  his  declaration  that  he  must  trouble  him  for  a  check 
to  that  amount,  signed  by  the  great  millionaire,  Arthur  Hamil- 
ton, Esq.,  goaded  him  to  madness.  He  drank  down  a  large 
draught  of  brandy,  and  deliberately  sought  another  table  and 
another  opponent,  and  won  back  fifteen  ;  but  it  was  the  last  day 
of  his  stay  on  shore,  as  his  enslaver  knew,  and  it  was  the  wretch- 
edness, the  misery  of  his  heavy  debt  to  the  crafty,  merciless 
betrayer  of  his  youthful  freshness  and  innocence,  who  had 
solemnly  sworn  if  he  did  not  pay  it  by  the  next  letters  from  his 
home,  he  would  inform  against  him,  and  he  knew  the  conse- 
quences, which  had  urged  that  fearful  letter  to  Ellen,  from 
which  all  her  suffering  had  sprung.  Edward  was  much  too 
young  and  ignorant  of  the  world's  ways  to  know  that  Harding 
no  mere  dared  execute  his  threat  against  him,  than  he  could  put 
his  own  head  in  the  lion's  mouth.  His  remorse  was  too  deep, 
his  loathing  of  his  changed  self  too  unfeigned,  to  believe  that 
his  errors  were  not  of  the  heinous,  fatal  nature  which  Harding 
15 


518  HOME    INFLUENCE. 

taught  him  to  suppose  them  ;  and  the  anguish  of  a  naturally  fine 
noble,  independent  spirit  may  be  imagined.  All  his  poor  mo- 
ther's lessons  of  his  uncle's  excessive  sternness,  and  determined 
pitilessness,  toward  the  faults  of  those  less  firm  and  worthy  than 
himself,  returned  to  him,  completely  banishing  his  own  expe- 
I'ienee  of  that  same  uncle's  excessive  kindness.  The  one  feel- 
ing had  been  insensibly  instilled  in  his  boyhood,  from  as  long 
as  he  could  remember,  till  the  age  of  twelve ;  the  other  was 
but  the  experience  of  eighteen  short  months.  Oh,  if  parents 
would  but  think  and  tremble  at  the  vast  importance  of  the  first 
lessons  which  reach  the  understanding  of  the  young  beings 
committed  to  their  care !  Let  them  impress  TRUTH,  not  pre- 
judice, and  they  are  safe.  Once  fix  a  false  impression,  and 
they  know  not,  and  it  is  well,  perhaps,  they  do  not,  the  misery 
that  tiny  seed  may  sow. 

Mr.  Howard  listened  with  such  earnest,  heartfelt  sympathy, 
such  deep  commiseration,  that  his  young  penitent  told  him 
every  error,  every  feeling,  without  the  smallest  reserve ;  and 
in  the  long  conversation  which  followed,  he  felt  more  com- 
forted, more  hopeful  of  himself,  than  he  had  done  for  long, 
long  months.  He  told,  with  such  a  burst  of  remorseful  agony, 
his  cruelty  to  his  devoted  sister,  that  Mr.  Howard  could  scarcely 
hear  it  unmoved,  for  on  that  subject  there  seemed  indeed  no 
comfort ;  and  he  himself,  though  he  would  not  add  to  Edward's 
misery  by  confessing  it,  felt  more  painfully  self-reproached  for 
his  severity  toward  her  than  his  conduct  as  a  minister  had 
ever  excited  before. 

"  Be  with  me,  or  rather  let  me  be  with  you  as  much  as  you 
can,"  was  Edward's  mournful  appeal,  as  their  long  interview 
closed  ;  "  I  have  no  dependence  on  myself —  a  weak,  miserable 
coward  !  longing  to  forsake  the  path  of  evil,  and  having  neither 
power  nor  energy  to  do  so.  I  know  you  will  tell  me,  pray  — 
trust.  If  I  had  not  prayed,  I  could  not  have  confessed  —  but 
it  will  not,  I  know  it  will  not  last." 

"It  will,  while  enduring  this  heavy  trial  of  your  poor  sister's 
terrible  illness,  and  God's  infinite  mercy  may  so  strengthen  you 
in  the  furnace  of  affliction,  as  to  last  in  returning  joy.  Despair, 
and  you  must  fall ;  trust,  and  you  will  hope  and  struggle  —  de- 
spite of  pain  or  occasional  relapses.  Your  faults  are  great,  but 
not  so  great  as  Harding  represented  them  —  n  >t  so  heavy  but 
that  you  can  conquer  and  redeem  them,  and  be  yet  all  we  have 
believed  you,  all  that  you  hoped  for  in  yourself." 

"And  my  uncle  —  "  said  Edward,  hesitatingly. 

"  Must  be  told ;  but  I  will  answer  for  him  that  he   will  bf 


HOME    INFLUENCE.  31$ 

neither  harsh  nor  unjust,  nor  even  severe.  I  will  write  to  him 
myself,  and  trust  to  convince  him  that  your  repentance,  and  re- 
solution are  sufficiently  sincere,  to  permit  you  a  second  trial, 
without  referring  to  Sir  Edward.  You  have  done  nothing  to 
expel  you  from  your  profession ;  but  it  depends  on  yourself  to 
become  truly  worthy  of  its  noble  service." 

There  was  much  in  the  sad  tale  he  had  heard  to  give  hope, 
and  Mr.  Howard  longed  to  impart  its  comfort  to  Mrs.  Hamil- 
ton ;  but  he  felt  she  could  not  listen.  While  day  after  day 
passed,  and  the  poor  sufferer  for  another's  errors  lay  hovering 
between  life  and  death,  reason  so  utterly  suspended,  that  even 
when  the  violent  agony  of  the  first  seven  days  and  nights  had 
subsided  into  lethargic  stupors,  alternating  with  such  quiet  sub- 
mission and  gentle  words,  that,  had  it  not  been  for  their  wander- 
ing sense,  one  might  have  fancied  intellect  returning  ;  still  rea- 
son was  absent  —  and,  though  none  said  it  aloud,  the  fear 
would  gain  dominion,  that  health  might  return,  but  not  the 
mind.  The  first  advice  had  been  procured  —  what  was  dis- 
tance, even  then,  to  wealth  ?  —  every  remedy  resorted  to.  Her 
luxuriant  hair  cut  close,  and  ice  itself  applied  to  cool  that  barn- 
ing,  throbbing  pain ;  but  all  had  seemed  vain,  till  its  cessation, 
at  the  end  of  seven  days,  somewhat  renewed  Mr.  Maitland's 
hope. 

Not  one  tear  had  Mrs.  Hamilton  shed,  and  GO  excessive  had 
been  her  fatigue,  that  Miss  Harcourt  and  her  children  trembled 
for  her ;  conjuring  her,  for  their  sakes,  for  her  husband's,  to 
take  repose.  Mr.  Maitland's  argument,  that  when  Ellen  re- 
covered her  senses  (which  he  assured  her  now  he  had  little 
doubt  she  would  eventually,)  she  would  need  the  soothing  com- 
fort of  her  presence  still  more  than  she  could  then,  and  her 
strength  must  fail  before  that  —  if  she  so  exhausted  it  —  carried 
more  weight  than  all  the  rest ;  and  her  daughters  had  the  inex- 
pressible relief  of  finding  that  when,  in  compliance  with  their 
tearful  entreaties,  she  did  lie  down,  she  slept,  and  slept  refresh- 
ingly, for  nature  was  exhausted.  There  was  much  of  comfort 
in  those  days  of  trial,  which  Mrs.  Hamilton  fully  realized,  when 
Ellen's  convalescence  permitted  her  to  recall  it,  though  at  the 
time  it  seemed  unnoticed.  That  Caroline's  strong  mind  and 
good  heart  should  urge  her  to  do  every  thing  in  her  power  to 
save  her  mother  trouble,  even  to  entreat  Ellis  and  Moms  to 
show  her,  and  let  her  attend  to  the  weekly  duties  with  them, 
and  accomplish  them  so  earnestly  and  well,  that  both  these 
faithful  domestics  were  astonished  and  delighted,  was  not  sur- 
prising ;  for  hers  was  a  character  to  display  its  better  qualities 


320  HOME   INFLUENCE. 

iii  such  emergencies.  But  that  Emmeline  should  so  effectually 
rouse  herself'  from  the  overwhelming  grief,  which  had  at  first 
assailed  her  at  Ellen's  fearful  sufferings  and  great  danger,  as 
to  bo  a  comfort  alike  to  her  mother  and  Edward,  and  assist 
Caroline  whenever  she  could,  even  trying  to  be  hopeful  and 
cheerful  for  others'  sakes,  till  she  actually  became  so,  was  sc 
unexpected,  from  the  grief  she  had  indulged  in  when  she  parted 
from  her  father,  that  it  did  surprise.  To  be  in  the  room  with 
Ellen  had  so  affected  her  at  first,  that  she  became  pale,  and  so 
evidently  terrified,  that  Mrs.  Hamilton  half  desired  her  not  to 
come,  especially  as  she  could  do  no  good ;  and  Mrs.  Greville 
and  Mary  had  tried  to  prevail  on  her  to  stay  with  them,  but 
she  Avould  not  hear  of  it. 

"  If  I  can  do  no  good,  can  neither  help  mamma  in  nursing 
Ellen,  nor  do  as  Caroline  does,  I  can,  at  least,  try  to  comfort 
poor  Edward,  and  I  will  not  leave  him.  If  I  am  so  weak  as 
not  to  be  able  to  endure  anxiety  and  sorrow  without  showing 
it,  it  shall  not  conquer  me.  No,  no,  dear  Mary  ;  come  and  see 
me  as  often  as  you  like,  but  I  cannot  leave  home  till  mamma 
and  Ellen  and  we  are  all  happy  again !  " 

And  she  did  devote  herself  to  Edward,  and  so  successfully  — 
with  her  gentle  sympathy  with  his  grief,  her  tender  feeling  to- 
ward his  faults,  her  conviction  of  her  father's  forgiveness,  her 
unassuming  but  heart-breathing  piety,  which,  without  one  word 
unduly  introduced  of  a  subject  so  holy,  for  she  felt  herself  much 
too  lowly  and  ignorant  to  approach  it  —  yet  always  led  up  his 
thoughts  to  God,  and  from  one  so  young,  so  humble,  and,  in 
general,  so  joyous,  had  still  greater  effect  in  confirming  his  re- 
turning religious  hope,  than  had  his  teachers  been  only  those 
who  were  older  and  wiser  than  himself.  However  miserable 
he  might  be  before  she  came,  he  looked  to  her  society,  her  elo- 
quence, as  comfort  and  hope  ;  and  soon  perceiving  this,  she 
was  encouraged  to  go  on,  though  quite  astonished  —  for  she 
could  not  imagine  what  she  had  done  to  deserve  such  commend- 
ation—  when  Mr.  Howard,  one  day  meeting  her  alone,  took 
both  her  hands  in  his,  and  with  even  unusual  fervor  bade  God 
bless  her!  —  for  young,  lowly  as  she  was,  she  not  only  comfort- 
ed the  erring,  but  raised  and  strengthened  the  penitent  s  trem- 
bling faith  and  hope. 

Poor  Edward !  harder  than  all  seemed  to  him  his  aunt's 
pilence.  lie  knew  his  sister  entirely  engrossed  her  —  511  as 
Ellen  was,  it  could  not  be  otherwise ;  but  he  passionately 
longed  only  for  one  word  from  her  :  that  she  forgave  him  the 
misery  she  was  enduring.  Not  aware  that  such  was  his  feel 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  321 

infe*,  cmscious  herself  that  her  sole  feeling  toward  him  waa 
pity,  not  anger,  and  looking  to  herself  alone  as  the  cause  of  her 
poor  child's  sufferings,  she  did  not  think  for  a  moment  that  he 
could  imagine  her  never  referring  to  his  confession  'originated 
in  displeasure. 

Ten  or  twelve  days  had  so  passed,  when  one  afternoon,  com- 
pletely exhausted  with  two  nights'  watchfulness  —  for  though 
nurse  Langford  and  Fanny  were  in  constant  attendance  on 
Ellen,  she  could  not  rest  if  she  heard  that  harrowing  cry  for 
her,  even  though  her  presence  brought  no  comfort — she  went 
to  lie  down  for  a  few  hours  on  a  couch  in  her  dressing-room. 
Caroline  had  taken  a  book,  though  with  not  much  inclination 
to  read,  to  sit  by  her,  and  watch  that  her  sleep  should  not  be 
disturbed.  How  in  those  moments  of  quiet  did  she  long  for 
her  father !  feeling  intuitively  how  much  heavier  was  her 
mother's  trial  without  his  loved  support.  lie  had  been  written 
to  by  them  all  since  Edward's  confession.  Mrs.  Hamilton  had 
done  so  in  Ellen's  room,  only  to  beseech  him  to  write  forgiv- 
ingly, forbcaringlj  to  the  unhappy  cause  of  all.  She  did  not 
dare  breathe  her  feelings,  even  on  paper,  to  him,  convinced 
that  if  she  did  so,  control  must  give  way,  and  she  was  power- 
less at  once  ;  but  her  husband  knew  her  so  well  that  every 
suppression  of  individual  emotion  betrayed,  more  forcible  than 
the  most  earnest  words,  all  she  was  enduring. 

Caroline  had  kept  her  affectionate  vigil  nearly  two  hours, 
when  Edward's  voice  whispered,  "  Miss  Harcourt  wants  you, 
dear  Caroline  ;  let  me  take  your  place,  I  will  be  quite  as  watch- 
ful as  yourself;  only  let  me  stay  here,  you  do  not  know  the 
comfort  it  will  be." 

To  resist  his  look  of  pleading  wretchedness  was  impossible. 
She  left  him,  and  Edward  drawing  a  low  stool  to  the  foot  of 
the  couch,  as  if  not  daring  to  occupy  his  cousin's  seat,  which 
was  close  by  the  pillow,  gazed  on  the  mild,  gentle  features  of 
his  aunt,  as  in  their  deep  repose  they  showed  still  clearer  the, 
traces  of  anxiety  and  sorrow,  and  felt  more  keenly  than  ever 
the  full  amount  of  misery,  which  his  errors  and  their  fatal  con- 
cealment had  created.  t;  Why  is  it,"  he  thought,  "  that  man 
cannot  bear  the  punishment  of  his  faults  without  causing  the 
innocent,  the  good,  to  suffer  also  ?  "  And  his  heart  seemed  to 
answer,  "  Because  by  those  very  social  ties,  the  strong  im- 
pulses of  love  for  one  another,  which  would  save  others  from 
woe,  we  may  be  preserved  and  redeemed  from  vice  again,  and 
yet  again,  when,  were  man  alone  the  sufferer,  vice  would  b<? 
stronger  than  remorse,  and  never  be  redeemed." 


822  HOME  INFLUENCE. 

Mrs  Hamilton  woke  with  that  painful  start  which  long 
vratch- illness  always  occasions,  and  missing  Caroline,  yet  feet 
ing  as  if  she  were  not  alone,  her  eyes  speedily  fixed  themselves 
in  some  surprise  on  the  figure  of  her  nephew,  who,  unable  to 
hear  the  thoughts  the  sight  of  her  exhaustion  produced,  had 
bent  his  head  upon  the  couch.  Inexpressibly  touched,  and  glad 
of  the  opportunity  to  speak  to  him  alone,  she  called  him  to  her, 
find  there  was  something  in  the  tone  that  encouraged  him  to 
fling  himself  on  his  knees  by  her  side,  and  sob  like  an  infant, 
saying,  almost  inarticulately  — 

"  Can  you,  will  you  ever  forgive  me,  aunt  Emmeline  ?  Your 
silence  has  almost  broken  my  heart,  for  it  seemed  to  say  you 
never  could ;  and  when  I  look  at  my  poor  Ellen,  and  see  how 
I  have  changed  this  happy  home  into  sorrow  and  gloom,  and 
sin,  for  it  is  all  my  work  —  mine,  whom  you  have  loved,  treated, 
trusted,  as  a  son  —  I  feel  you  cannot  forgive  me  ;  I  ought  to  gc 
from  you  ;  I  have  no  right  to  pollute  your  home." 

"  Hush,  Edward  !  do  not  give  utterance  or  indulgence  tc 
any  such  thoughts.  My  poor,  unhappy  boy  !  your  errors  have 
brought  such  fearful  chastisement  from  the  hand  of  God  him- 
self, it  is  not  for  me  to  treat  you  harshly.  May  His  mercy 
avert  yet  severer  trial !  I  will  not  hear  your  story  now  ;  you 
are  too  agitated  to  tell  it,  and  I  am  not  at  this  moment  strong 
enough  to  hear  it.  I  am  satisfied  that  you  have  confided  all  to 
Mr.  Howard,  and  will  be  guided  by  him.  Only  tell  me  how 
came  you  first  to  apply  to  Ellen  ?  Did  the  thought  never 
strike  you,  that  in  sending  relief  to  you,  she  might  be  exposing 
herself  to  inconvenience  or  displeasure  ?  Was  there  no  con- 
sideration due  to  her  ?  " 

"  I  never  seemed  to  think  of  her,  except  as  glad  and  willing 
to  help  me,  at  whatever  cost  to  herself,"  was  his  reply.  "  I  feel 
now  the  cruel  selfishness  of  the  belief — but  oh,  aunt  Emmc- 
line,  it  was  fostered  in  me  from  my  earliest  childhood,  grew 
with  my  growth,  increased  with  my  years,  received  strength 
and  meaning  from  my  poor  mother's  utter  neglect  of  her,  and 
too  indulgent  thought  for  me.  I  never  thought  so  till  now,  now 
that  I  know  all  my  poor  sister's  meek  and  gentle  worth,  and  it 
makes  me  still  more  miserable.  I  never  could  think  her  my 
equal ;  never  could  fancy  she  could  have  a  will  or  wish  apart 
from  mine,  and  I  cannot  trace  the  commencement  of  the  feel- 
ing !  Oh !  if  we  had  been  but  treated  alike  !  but  taught  to  so 
love  each  other,  as  to  think  of  each  other's  happiness  above 
our  own,  as  you  taught  my  cousins  !  " 

"  Do  you  know  any  thing  of  the  promise  to  which  poor  Ellec 


HOME  INFLUENCE.  323 

so  constantly  refers?"  inquired  Mrs.  Hamilton,  after  gently 
southing  his  painful  agitation. 

He  did  not;  but  acknowledged  that  from  the  time  they  had 
become  inmates  of  Oakwood,  Ellen  had  constantly  saved  him 
from  punishment  by  bearing  the  panalty  of  his  faults ;  recalling 
numerous  incidents,  trifling  in  themselves,  but  which  had  always 
perplexed  Mrs.  Hamilton,  as  evincing  such  strange  contradic- 
tious in  Ellen's  childish  character,  and  none  more  so  than  the 
disobedience  which  we  related  in  our  second  part,  and  which 
Edward's  avowal  of  having  himself  moved  the  flower-stand, 
now  so  clearly  explained.  He  said,  too,  that  Mr.  Howard  had 
thought  it  necessary,  for  Ellen's  perfect  justification,  to  examine 
her  letters  and  papers,  but  that  all  his  appeals  to  her  had  been 
destroyed  but  one  —  his  last  fatal  inclosure,  the  exact  contents 
of  which  he  had  so  utterly  forgotten,  written,  as  they  were,  in 
a  moment  of  madness,  that  he  shuddered  himself  as  he  read  it. 
He  placed  the  paper  in  Mrs.  Hamilton's  hand,  conjuring  her 
not  to  recall  her  forgiveness  when  she  read  it;  but  she  must 
see  it,  it  was  the  only  amends  he  could  make  his  poor  Ellen,  to 
exculpate  her  fully.  Was  it  any  wonder  it  had  almost  driven 
her  wild  ?  or  that  she  should  have  scarcely  known  the  means  she 
adopted  to  send  him  the  relief,  which,  as  he  deserved,  had  never 
reached  him. 

Mrs.  Hamilton  read  the  letter,  and  as  thought  after  thought 
rose  to  her  mind,  connecting,  defining,  explaining  Ellen's  con- 
duct from  her  fifteenth  birth-day,  the  day  she  received  it,  to  the 
discovery  of  her  sin,  and  her  devoted  silence  afterward,  trifling 
incidents  which  she  had  forgotten  returned  to  add  their  weight 
of  evidence,  and  increase  almost  to  agony  her  self-reproach,  for 
not  seeing  the  whole  before,  and  acting  differently.  She  re- 
membered now  Ellen's  procrastination  in  writing  to  Edward, 
the  illness  which  followed,  and  could  well  understand  her  dread 
lest  the  finding  the  notes  should  be  traced  to  that  day,  and  so 
throw  a  suspicion  on  her  brother,  and  her  consequent  firmness 
in  refusing  to  state  the  day  she  had  found  them. 

That  long  interview  was  one  of  inexpressible  comfort  to  Ed- 
ward ;  but  though  his  unfeigned  repentance  and  full  confession 
gave  his  aunt  hope  for  him,  it  did  but  increase  her  individual 
trial,  as  she  returned  to  Ellen's  couch,  and  listened  to  wander 
ings  only  too  painfully  explained  by  the  tale  she  had  heard. 


HOME    INFLUENCE. 


CHAPTER  X. 

MISTAKEN  IMPRESSIONS    ERADICATED 

IT  was  the  seventeenth  day  of  Ellen's  illness,  and  for  six- an  1- 
ihirty  hours  she  had  slept  profoundly,  waking  only  jit  very  long 
intervals,  just  sufficiently  to  swallow  a  few  drops  of  port  wine, 
which  Mr.  Maitland  had  ordered  to  be  administered  if  she 
woke,  and  sunk  to  sleep  again.  It  was  that  deep,  still,  almost 
fearful  repose,  for  it  is  so  like  death,  which  we  can  scarcely 
satisfy  ourselves  is  life,  except  by  holding  a  glass  at  intervals 
to  the  lips,  to  trace  if  indeed  it  receive  the  moisture  of  the  breath. 
And  nurse  Langford,  Mrs.  Hamilton,  and  Edward  had,  through 
these  long  hours,  watched  and  scarcely  stirred.  For  they  knew 
that  on  her  waking  hung  hope  or  misery,  return  of  intellect,  or 
its  confirmed  suspension.  Mr.  Maitland  had  particularly  wished 
Edward  to  be  with  her  when  she  recovered  her  senses,  that  his 
presence  might  seem  as  natural  as  either  of  her  cousins ;  but  he 
warned  him  that  the  least  display  of  agitation  on  his  part,  or 
reference  to  the  past,  in  her  exhausted  state,  might  be  fatal  to 
her.  It  was  quite  the  evening.  Widow  Langford  had  lighted 
the  lamp,  and  sat  down  by  the  fire,  scarcely  able  to  breathe 
freely,  from  the  intensity  of  her  hope  that  Ellen  would  recover. 
And  if  such  were  her  feelings,  what  were  Edward's  and  Mrs. 
Hamilton's  ?  The  former  was  kneeling  on  the  right  of  the  bed, 
his  eyes  alternately  fixed  on  his  sister,  and  buried  in  the  cover- 
lid. Mrs.  Hamilton  was  on  the  opposite  side,  close  to  Ellen's 
pillow,  the  curtain  drawn  so  far  back,  that  the  least  change  on 
the  patient's  countenance  was  discernible.  Hour  after  hour 
had  so  passed,  the  chimes  that  told  their  flight  were  scarcely 
heard  by  those  anxious  watchers.  It  was  about  eight  o'clock, 
when  a  slight  movement  in  Ellen  made  her  aunt's  heart  to 
throb,  as  almost  to  deprive  her  of  breath;  her  eyes  unclosed, 
and  a  smile,  such  as  Mrs.  Hamilton  had  not  seen  for  weeks, 
.lay.  months  circled  her  lips. 

"  Dear  aunt,  have  I  been  ill  ?  It  seems  such  a  long,  long 
time  since  I  have  seen  you,  and  my  head  feels  so  strange,  so 
light  ;  and  this  room,  it  is  my  own,  I  know,  but  I  feel  as  if  it 
-iii!  not  belong  to  me,  somehow.  Do  make  my  head  clear>  I 
cannot  think  at  all." 


HOME  INFLUENCE.  325 

u  Do  not  try  to  think  yet,  darling.  You  have  been  very,  vert, 
ill,  and  to  endeavor  to  think  might  hurt  you.  Strength  wiD 
soon  return  now,  I  hope,  and  then  your  head  will  be  quite  clear 
again,"  returned  Mrs.  Hamilton,  quietly  and  caressingly,  though 
Bhe  so  trembled  with  the  change  from  sickening  dread  to  certain 
hope,  that  she  herself  scarcely  knew  how  she  spoke  at  all. 

"  But  what  made  me  so  ill,  aunt  ?  I  feel  as  if  it  were  some 
great  pain  ;  I  cannot  remember  any  thing  clearly,  but  yet  it 
seems  as  if  I  had  been  very  unhappy  —  and  that  —  that  you 
did  not  love  me  any  more.  Did  any  thing  make  me  ill  ?  Was 
it  really  so  ?  " 

"  That  I  did  not  love  you,  my  Ellen  !  Indeed,  that  was  only 
fancy.  You  were  very  unhappy,  as  we  were  all,  for  Edward 
did  not  come  as  soon  as  we  expected  him,  and  the  storms  were 
very  dreadful,  and  we  feared  his  ship  might  have  been  wrecked, 
or  cast  ashore,  somewhere  very  far  off,  where  we  could  not  hear 
of  him  ;  and  when  you  saw  him,  and  knew  he  was  safe,  the 
anxiety  and  pain  you  had  undergone,  made  you  ill ;  you  know 
a  little  thing  will  do  that,  dearest." 

"  But  is  he  really  safe,  aunt  Emmeline  ?     Where  is  he  ?  " 

"  Close  by  you,  love.  He  has  been  as  watchful  and  anxiovs 
a  nurse  as  I  have  been.  Poor  felhyw,  you  have  given  him  a 
sad  welcome,  but  you  must  make  up  for  it,  by-and-by." 

Ellen  looked  languidly,  yet  eagerly  round,  as  her  aunt  spoke, 
and  her  gaze  fixed  itself  on  her  brother,  who  was  struggling 
violently  to  suppress  the  emotion  which,  at  the  sound  of  her 
voice,  in  connected  words,  nearly  overpowered  him  ;  and  still 
more  so,  when  Ellen  said,  more  eagerly  than  she  had  yet 
spoken  — 

"  Dear  Edward  !  come  and  kiss  me,  and  do  not  look  so  sad. 
I  shall  soon  get  well." 

He  bent  over  her,  and  kissed  her  repeatedly,  trying  in  vain 
to  say  something,  but  he  felt  so  choked,  he  could  not ;  and  Ellen 
held  his  hand,  and  looked  earnestly,  searchingly  in  his  face,  as 
if  trying  painfully  to  define  the  vague  thoughts  and  memories 
which  seemed  all  connected  with  him  and  with  pain,  but  which 
would  not  take  a  distinct  form.  Her  eye  wandered  from  him 
for  a  moment  to  nurse  Langford,  who  had  come  to  the  foot  of 
the  bed,  and  that  seemed  another  face  connected  with  the  blank 
past,  and  then  it  fixed  itself  again  on  Edward,  and  her  pale 
face  so  worked  with  the  effort  of  thought,  that  Mrs.  Hamilton 
became  alarmed.  She  saw,  too,  that  Edwarc  was  growing 
paler  and  paler,  and  trembled  for  the  continual  ce  of  his  con- 
•Tol.  Taking  Ellen's  hand  gently  from  his,  and  arranging  he? 


826  HOME   INFLUENCE. 

pillow  at  the  same  time,  so  as  to  turn  her  ihce  rather  from  him, 
*h»  said,  playfully  — 

•'  You  have  looked  at  Edward  long  enough,  Ellen,  to  be 
quite  sure  he  is  safe  at  home.  So  now  I  shall  be  jealous  if 
you  give  him  any  more  of  your  attention  and  neglect  me  ;  you 
must  take  some  nourishment,  and  try  to  go  to  sleep  again,  for 
[  must  not  have  you  try  your  strength  too  much." 

"  If  I  could  but  remember  clearly,"  answered  Ellen,  sadly ; 
"  it  is  all  so  vague  —  so  dark  —  but  I  do  not  think  it  was  only 
because  he  did  not  come,  that  made  me  so  unhappy." 

"  You  are  not  going  to  be  disobedient,  dearest,"  replied  Mrs. 
Hamilton,  firmly,  though  fondly,  as  she  hastily  signed  to  Ed- 
ward to  leave  the  room,  which  he  most  thankfully  did,  never 
stopping  till  he  reached  his  own,  and  tried  to  thank  God  for 
His  great  mercy,  but  could  only  sob.  "  I  told  you  not  to  think, 
because  to  do  so  might  retard  return  of  strength,  and  indeed 
you  must  try  and  obey  me ;  you  know  I  am  very  peremptory 
sometimes."  And  the  fond  kiss  with  which  she  enforced  the 
command  seemed  to  satisfy  Ellen,  whose  natural  submissiveness, 
combined  with  excessive  physical  weakness,  caused  her  to  obey 
at  once,  and  not  attempt  to  think  any  more.  She  took  the  re- 
quired nourishment  with  returning  appetite,  and  soon  afterward 
fell  quietly  and  happily  to  sleep  again,  her  aunt's  hand  closely 
clasped  in  hers. 

From  that  day,  all  fear  of  disordered  intellect  departed,  and, 
gradually,  the  extreme  exhaustion  gave  way  before  Mr.  Mail- 
laud's  judicious  treatment.  Strength,  indeed,  returned  so  slowly 
and  almost  imperceptibly,  that  it  was  necessary  to  count  im- 
provement by  weeks,  not  days.  And  when,  six  weeks  after  her 
first  seizure,  she  was  thought  well  enough  to  be  carried  to  Mrs. 
Hamilton's  dressing-room,  and  laid  on  a  couch  there,  it  was  a 
source  of  gratitude  and  rejoicing  to  all.  But  Mr.  Maitland  and 
Mrs.  Hamilton  soon  saw,  with  intense  anxiety,  that  with  phy- 
sical strength,  memory  and  thought  had  both  fully  returned, 
and  that  their  consequence  was  a  depression  so  deep,  as  effect- 
ually to  retard  her  perfect  recovery.  She  seemed  to  shrink 
from  all  attention,  all  kindness,  as  utterly  undeserved,  even  from 
her  cousins.  She  would  look  at  Edward  for  half  an  hour  to- 
gether, with  an  expression  of  suffering  that  made  the  heart 
actually  ache.  At  times  she  would  receive  Mrs.  Hamilton's 
caressing  and  judicious  tenderness  as  :'f  it  were  her  only  com- 
fort, at  others,  shrink  from  it,  as  if  she  Aad  no  right  to  it. 

"This  will  never  do,"  Mr.  Maitland  said,  about  ten  days  after 
Kllcn'i-  removal  into  her  daily  quarters,  and  finding  sht  war 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  327 

losing  ground;  "there  is  something  on  her  mind,  which  must 
be  removed,  even  if  to  do  so,  you  refer  to  the  past.  She  re- 
members it  all  too  clearly,  I  fear,  so  our  not  alluding  to  it  does 
no  good.  You  must  be  the  physician  in  this  case,  my  dear 
Mrs.  Hamilton,  for  I  am  powerless." 

But  though  she  quite  agreed  with  him,  how  to  approach  such 
a  very  painful  subject  required  no  little  consideration ;  but,  as 
is  very  often  the  case,  chance  does  that  on  which  we  have  ex- 
pended so  much  thought. 

One  afternoon  Ellen  lay  so  still,  so  pale,  on  her  couch,  that 
Mrs.  Hamilton  bent  over  her  to  listen  if  she  breathed,  saying, 
as  she  did  so,  almost  unconsciously  — 

"  My  poor  Ellen,  when  shall  I  have  the  comfort  of  seeing  you 
well  and  happy  again?" 

Ellen  hastily  unclosed  her  eyes,  for  she  was  not  asleep  —  it 
had  been  only  the  stupor  of  painfully-engrossing  thought,  ren- 
dering her  insensible  to  all  outward  things,  but  her  aunt's  voice 
aroused  her,  and  it  seemed  an  inexpressible  relief  to  feel  they 
were  quite  alone.  Trying  to  rise,  and  clasping  her  hands,  she 
said,  in  a  tone  of  strong  excitement  — 

"  Oh,  aunt  Emmeline,  how  can  I  be  happy  —  how  can  I  be 
well  —  when  I  think  —  think  —  that  if  it  had  not  been  for  my 
t?in,  and  the  misery  it  brought  on  me,  Edward  might  be  safe 
still?  no  one  need  have  known  his  errors.  I  tried  to  save  — 
and  —  and  I  have  only  betrayed,  and  made  him  wretched.  All 
I  suffered  was  for  nothing,  worse  than  nothing ! " 

"  Thank  God,  you  have  spoken,  my  dear  child !  I  felt  as  if  I 
dared  not  introduce  the  subject ;  but  now  that  you  have  your- 
self, I  think  I  shall  be  able,  if  indeed  you  will  listen  to  me  pa- 
tiently, Ellen,  to  disperse  the  painful  mists,  that  are  still  press- 
ing so  heavily  on  this  poor  little  heart  and  brain,"  she  said, 
fondly,  though  seriously,  as  she  put  her  arm  round  Ellen,  to 
support  her  as  she  sat  up.  "I  do  not  tell  you  it  is  not  a  natural 
feeling,  my  love,  but  it  is  a  wrong  one.  Had  your  sin,  in  con- 
sideration of  its  being,  as  I  am  now  convinced  it  was,  wholly 
involuntary  —  for  in  the  fearful  state  of  mind  Edward's  despe- 
rate letter  occasioned,  you  could  not  have  known  or  thought  of 
any  thing,  but  that  relief  seemed  sent  to  your  hand  —  had  it  on 
that  account  been  permitted  so  far  to  succeed,  as  to  give  him 
the  aid  he  demanded,  and  never  have  been  traced  to  you,  it 
would  have  confirmed  him  in  the  path  of  guilt  and  error,  and 
poisoned  your  happiness  forever.  -  When  you  recall  the  agony, 
almost  madness  you  felt,  while  burdened  with  the  consciou  snesa 
of  such  an  act,  how  could  you  have  borne  it,  if  it  had  continued 


•J:!H  HOME   INFLULNCE. 

through  months,  perhaps  years?  You  shudder ;  yet  this  must 
have  been  the  case,  and  Edward  would  have  persisted  in  error, 
if  your  sin  had  been  permitted  to  succeed.  Its  detection,  and 
the  sufferings  thence  springing,  terrible  as  they  have  been  to 
you,  my  poor  child,  have  saved  him ;  and  will,  I  trust,  only 
bring  securer  happiness  to  you." 

"  Saved  him ! "  repeated  Ellen,  half  starting  up,  and  scarcely 
hearing  the  last  words  —  "saved  Edward!" 

"  Yes,  dearest,  by  leading  him  to  a  full  confession,  and  giving 
him  not  only  the  inexpressible  comfort  of  such  a  proceeding, 
but  permitting  him  to  see,  that  great  and  disappointing  as  his 
errors  are,  they  can  be  conquered.  They  are  not  of  the  irre- 
mediable, guilt-confirming  nature,  that  he  was  taught  to  suppose 
them  from  Harding' s  own  most  guilty  ends,  and  so  giving  him 
hope  and  resolution  to  amend,  which  a  belief  that  amendment 
is  impossible,  entirely  frustrates.  Do  not  fear  for  Edward,  my 
own  love ;  he  will  give  you  as  much  pride  and  comfort  as  he 
has  anxiety  and  grief;  and  you,  under  God's  merey,  will  have 
been  the  cause.  It  is  a  hard  lesson  to  learn,  and  yet,  Ellen,  I 
think  one  day,  when  you  can  look  back  more  calmly  on  the  last 
few  months,  you  will  acknowledge  with  me,  that  great  as  your 
sufferings  have  been,  they  were  sent  in  love  both  to  him  and 
to  you." 

"  If  they  have  saved  him  —  saved  him  from  a  continuance 
in  error,  and  so  made  him  happy!  —  Oh,  aunt Emmeline,  I  can 
think  so  now,  and  I  will  try  to  bear  the  rest?  but  why,"  she 
added,  growing  more  excited,  "oh,  why  have  you  been  so  good, 
so  kind?  Why  did  you  not  continue  cold  and  distant?  I  could 
bear  it  better,  then." 

"  Bear  what,  love  ?  What  have  you  more  to  bear  ?  Tell  me 
all  without  reserve.  Why  should  I  be  cold,  when  you  deserve 
all  my  love  and  kindness?" 

"Because  —  because,  am  I  not  to  go  to  Seldon  Grange,  as 
soon  as  I  am  strong  enough?  Uncle  Hamilton  said,  there 
could  be  no  excusing  cause  demanding  a  complete  avoidance  of 
his  sentence.  I  thought  it  was  pain  enough  when  you  first  told 
me ;  but  now,  now  every  time  I  think  about  it,  it  seems  as  if  I 
could  not  bear  it." 

"  And  you  are  not  called  upon  to  bear  it,  my  dear  child.  Is 
it  possible  you  could  think  for  a  moment  that  I  could  send  you 
away  from  me,  when  you  have  borne  so  much,  and  been  treated 
with  far  too  much  severity  already  ?  Did  I  not  tell  you  that 
the  term  of  yo  ir  banishment  depended  entirely  on  the  motive 
of  your  silon.t?,  and  do  you  think  there  was  no  excuse  in  youi 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  329 

notivo,  my  Ellen,  mistaken  as  it  was  ?  Is  self-devotion  to  be 
rf  no  more  account  to  me,  than  it  seemed  to  you  ?  Come, 
smile,  dearest ;  I  promise  you,  in  your  uncle's  name  and  my 
own,  you  shall  never  leave  us,  unless  it  be  of  your  own  free 
will  and  pleasure,  a  few  years  hence." 

Ellen  did  try  to  smile,  but  she  was  too  weak  to  bear  this 
complete  removal  of  a  double  burden  without  an  emotion  that 
seemed  more  like  pain  than  joy.  She  laid  her  head  on  her 
aunt's  shoulder,  and  wept  without  restraint.  They  were  the 
first  tears  she  had  shed  since  her  illness,  and  Mrs.  Hamilton 
thanked  God  for  them.  She  did  not  attempt  to  check  them, 
but  the  few  words  she  did  speak,  told  such  affectionate  sympa- 
thy, such  perfect  comprehension  of  that  young  heart,  that  Ellen 
felt  as  if  a  mountain  of  lead  were  dissolving  from  her. 

"And  now,  my  Ellen,  that  I  have  relieved  you  of  a  painful 
dread,  will  you  ease  my  mind  of  a  great  anxiety  ?  "  inquired 
Mrs.  Hamilton,  nearly  an  hour  afterward,  when  Ellen  seemed 
so  relieved  and  calmed,  that  she  could  talk  to  her  without  fear. 

"  You  look  surprised ;  but  it  is  a  subject  you  alone  can  explain, 
and  till  it  is  solved,  I  shall  never  feel  that  your  happiness  is 
secure.  What  is  this  promise,  to  which  in  your  illness  you  so 
constantly  referred,  and  which,  I  fear,  has  strengthened  you  in 
the  system  of  self-sacrifice  for  Edward's  sake,  in  addition  to 
your  love  for  him  ?  " 

A  deep  flush  rose  to  Ellen's  transparent  cheek  and  brow,  as 
she  answered,  falteringly  — 

"  Ought  I  to  tell  you,  dear  aunt  ?  You  do  not  know  how 
often,  how  very  often  I  have  longed  to  ask  you,  if  to  keep  it 
made  me  do  wrong  —  whether  I  ought  to  break  it  ?  And  yet  it 
seemed  so  sacred,  and  it  gave  poor  mamma  such  comfort !  '* 

"  When  did  you  make  it,  love  ?  Its  import  I  need  not  ask 
you,  for  you  betrayed  it,  when  you  knew  not  what  you  said,  and 
it  was  confirmed  by  your  whole  conduct.  To  shield  Edward 
from  blame  or  punishment,  by  never  revealing  his  faults  ?  " 

"  Was  it  wrong  ? "  murmured  Ellen,  hiding  her  conscious 
face. 

"  Wrong  in  you  !  no  dearest ;  for  you  were  too  young  to 
know  all  the  pain  and  evil  it  was  likely  to  bring.  Tell  me 
when,  and  how,  it  was  taken  ;  and  I  think  I  can  prove  to  you 
that  your  poor  mother  would  have  recalled  it,  had  she  had  the 
least  idea  of  the  solemn  hold  it  had  taken  upon  you." 

Thus  encouraged,  Ellen  narrated  the  scene  that  had  tak  in 
place  in  widow  Morgan's  cottage  just  before  Mrs.  Hamilton 
arrived  ;  and  her  mother's  fears  for  Edward,  and  dread  of  Mr 


530  HOME   INFLUENCE. 

Hamilton,  wbich  it  was  very  evident,  and  now  more  tL  »n  ever, 
had  extended  to  be  th  her  children.  She  said  that  Mr.  Myrvin's 
assurance,  that  her  mother  could  see,  and  would  love  her  ic 
Heaven,  directly  following  the  promise,  had  given  it  still  more 
weight  and  solemnity.  That  at  first  she  thought  it  would  be 
very  easy  to  keep,  because  she  loved  Edward  so  dearly ;  but 
she  had  not  been  long  at  Oakwood  before  it  made  her  very 
unhappy,  from  its  constant  interference  with,  and  prevention  of, 
her  obedience  and  duty  to  her  aunt ;  that  it  had  often  caused 
her  violent  headaches,  only  from  her  vain  attempts  to  satisfy  her- 
self as  to  that  which  she  ought  to  do.  When  Edward  first  went 
to  sea,  and  all  seemed  so  right  and  happy  with  him.  of  course 
she  became  happier  than  she  had  ever  been  before.  Then  came 
his  difficulties,  and  her  conviction  that  she  must  save  him  and 
keep  his  secret.  That  her  reason  and  her  affection  often  urged 
her  to  confide  all  U>  her  aunt,  certain  that  she  would  not  harshly 
condemn  Edward,  but  would  forgive  and  help  him  far  more 
effectually  than  she  could ;  but  she  dared  not,  for  whenever  she 
thought  thus,  the  figure  of  her  mother  rose  before  her,  seeming 
to  reproach  and  threaten  her  for  exposing  the  child  she  so  dearly 
loved,  to  disgrace  and  ruin ;  and  this  was  so  vivid,  so  constant, 
during  his  last  appeal,  that  she  thought  she  must  be  going 
mad ;  that  nothing  but  the  dread  of  not  being  firm  enough  to 
keep  Edward's  secret,  had  withheld  her  from  confessing  her  sin 
at  once  to  her  aunt,  especially  when  her  uncle  had  so  solemnly 
denounced  it  as  theft,  and  that  when  it  was  discovered  it  seemed 
actual  relief,  though  it  brought  such  severe  punishment,  for  she 
knew  no  suffering  for  her  could  be  too  severe. 

The  tale,  as  Ellen  told  it,  was  brief  and  simple  enough,  and 
that  there  was  any  merit  in  such  a  system  of  self-devotion  never 
seemed  to  enter  her  mind  for  a  moment ;  but  to  Mrs.  Hamilton 
it  revealed  such  an  amount  of  suffering  and  trial,  such  a  quiet, 
systematic,  heroic  endurance,  that  she  unconsciously  drew  that 
young  delicate  being  closer  and  closer  to  hti,  as  if  her  love 
should  protect  her  in  future  from  any  such  trial ;  and  from  what 
had  it  all  sprung?  —  the  misery  of  years,  at  a  period  when  life 
should  be  so  joyous  and  so  free,  that  care  and  sorrow  flee  it  as 
purely  and  too  briefly  happy  to  approach  ?  From  a  few  thought- 
less words,  from  a  thoughtless,  partial  mother,  whose  neglect 
and  dislike  had  pronounced  that  disposition  cold,  unloving  and 
inanimate  whose  nature  was  so  fervid,  so  imaginative,  that  th<! 
utmost  care  should  have  been  taken  to  prevent  the  entrance  of 
a  single  thought  or  feeling  too  precocious,  too  solemn  for  her 
years.  It  may  be  urged,  and  with  truth,  that  to  an  ordinary 


^  ilOME   INFLUENCE.  331 

child  tiie  promise  might  have  been  forgotten,  or  heedlessly  laid 
aside,  without  any  harm  accruing  from  it,  but  it  was  from  not 
caring  to  know  the  real  character  of  the  little  being,  for  •£  .lose 
happiness  and  virtue  she  was  responsible,  that  the  whole  mis- 
chief sprung ;  and  it  is  this  neglect  of  maternal  duty  against 
which  we  would  so  earnestly  warn  those  who  may  not  have 
thought  about  it.  It  is  not  enough  to  educate  the  mind,  to  pro- 
vide bodily  necessaries,  to  be  indulgent  in  the  gift  of  pleasure 
and  amusement,  the  heart  must  be  won  and  taught ;  and  to  do 
so  with  any  hope  of  success,  the  character  must  be  transparent 
as  the  day ;  and  what  difficulty,  what  hinderance,  can  there,  or 
ought  there  to  be,  in  obtaining  this  important  knowledge  to  a 
mother,  from  whose  breast  the  babe  has  received  its  nourish- 
ment, from  whose  arms  it  has  gradually  slipped  away  to  feel  its 
own  independence,  from  whose  lips  it  has  received  its  first  les- 
sons, at  whose  knee  lisped  its  first  prayer  ?  How  comparatively 
trifling  the  care,  how  easy  the  task  to  learn  the  opening  dispo- 
sition and  natural  character,  so  as  to  guide  with  gentleness  and 
love,  and  create  happiness,  not  for  childhood  alone,  though  that 
is  much,  but  for  youth  and  maturity. 

All  these  thoughts  passed  through  Mrs.  Hamilton's  mind  as 
she  listened  to  her  niece,  and  looked  at  the  pale,  sweet  face 
lifted  up  to  hers  in  the  earnestness  of  her  simple  tale,  as  if  un- 
consciously appealing  for  her  protection  against  the  bewildering 
and  contending  feelings  of  her  own  young  heart.  How  she 
was  effectually  to  remove  these  impressions  of  years,  indeed  she 
knew  not ;  her  heart  seemed  to  pray  for  guidance  that  peace 
might  at  length  be  Ellen's  portion,  even  as  she  heard. 

"  You  could  scarcely  have  acted  otherwise  than  you  have 
always  done  toward  Edward,  my  dear  Ellen,  under  the  influ- 
ence of  such  a  promise,"  she  said  ;  "  your  extreme  youth,  na- 
turally enough,  could  not  permit  you  to  distinguish,  whether  it 
was  called  for  by  a  mere  impulse  of  feeling  in  your  poor 
mother,  or  really  intended.  But  tell  me,  do  you  think  it  would 
give  me  any  comfort  or  happiness  if  I  could  see  Emmeline  act 
by  Percy  as  you  have  done  by  Edward  ?  To  see  her  suffer 
pain  and  sorrow,  and  be  led  into  error,  too,  sometimes,  to  con- 
ceal Percy's  faults,  and  prevent  their  removal,  when,  by  the 
infliction  of  some  trifling  pain,  it  would  save  his  exposing  him- 
self to  greater  ?  " 

"  But  it  seems  so  different  with  my  cousins,  aunt ;  they  arc 
all  such  equals.  I  cannot  fancy  Emmeline  in  my  place.  You 
have  always  loved  them  all  alike." 

'•And  do  you  not  ti'iink  a  mother  ought  to  do  so,  dearest  ? 


S32  UOME   INFLUENCE. 

"**  But  how  can  she,  if  they  are  not  all  equally  deserving  ?  1 
was  so  different  to  Edward ;  he  was  so  handsome  and  good, 
and  so  animated  and  happy  ;  and  I  was  always  fretful  and  ill 
and  they  said  so  often  naughty ;  and  he  used  to  fondle  poor 
mamma,  and  show  his  love,  which  I  was  afraid  to  do,  though 
I  did  love  her  so  very  much,  (the  tears  started  to  her  eyes,)  so  I 
could  not  help  feeling  he  must  be  much  better  than  I  was,  just 
as  I  always  feel  all  my  cousins  are,  and  so  it  was  no  wonder 
poor  mamma  loved  him  so  much  the  best." 

"  Have  I  ever  made  any  difference  between  Edward  and 
you,  Ellen  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Hamilton,  conquering,  with  no  small 
effort,  the  emotion  called  forth  by  Ellen's  simple  words. 

"  Oh,  no,  no !  "  and  she  clung  to  her  in  almost  painful  emo- 
tion. "  But  you  are  so  good,  so  kind  to  everybody  ;  you  would 
love  me,  and  be  kind  to  me  as  poor  papa  was,  because  nobody 
else  could." 

"  My  dear  Ellen,  what  can  I  do  to  remove  these  mistaken 
impressions  ?  I  love  you,  and  your  father  loved  you,  because 
you  have  qualities  claiming  our  love  quite  as  powerfully  as 
your  brother.  You  must  not  imagine  because  you  may  be  less 
personally  and  mentally  favored,  that  you  are  inferior  to  him, 
either  in  the  sight  of  your  Heavenly  Father,  or  of  the  friends 
and  guardians  He  has  given  you.  And  even  if  such  were  the 
case,  and  you  were  as  undeserving  as  you  so  wrongly  imagine 
yourself,  my  duty,  as  that  of  your  mother,  would  be  just  the 
same.  A  parent  does  not  love  and  guide  her  children  accord- 
ing to  their  individual  merits,  my  dear  Ellen,  but  according  to 
the  fountain  of  love  which,  to  enable  her  to  do  her  duty,  God 
has  so  mercifully  placed  in  her  heart ;  and  therefore  those  who 
have  the  least  attractions  and  the  most  faults,  demand  the 
greater  cherishing  to  supply  the  place  of  the  one,  and  more 
careful  guiding  to  overcome  the  other.  Do  you  quite  under- 
stand me,  love  ?  " 

Ellen's  earnest  face,  on  which  joy  and  hope  seemed  strug- 
gling with  doubt,  was  suflicient  answer. 

"  All  mothers  do  not  think  of  their  solemn  responsibility  in 
the  same  light ;  and  many  causes  —  sad  recollections  and  self- 
reproaches  for  her  early  life,  and  separation  in  coldness  from 
her  father  and  myself,  might  all  have  tended  to  weaken  your 
mother's  consciousness  of  her  duty,  and  so,  without  any  fault  it 
Yourself,  my  Ellen,  have  occasioned  her  too  great  partiality  foi 
Edward.  But  do  you  remember  her  last  words  ?  " 

Ellen  did  remember  them,  and  acknowledged  they  had  sc 
increased  her  affection  for  her  mother,  as  to  render  the  promise 
ttill  more  sacred  to  her. 


HOME    INFLUENCE.  333 

•'  I  feared  so,  dearest ;  but  it  is  just  the  contrary  effect  which 
they  should  have  had.  When  she  called  you  to  her,  and  bless- 
ed and  kissed  you  as  fondly  as  she  did  Edward,  she  said  she 
had  done  you  injustice,  had  failed  in  her  duty  to  you,  and  it  so 
grieved  her,  for  it  was  too  late  to  atone  for  it  then  ;  she  could 
only  pray  to  God  to  raise  you  up  a  kinder  parent.  I  have 
tried  to  be  that,  for  her  sake,  as  well  as  your  own ;  and  will 
you  not  acknowledge,  that  if  she  had  been  spared  to  love  and 
know  your  affection  for  her,  she  could  no  more  have  borne  to 
see  you  suffer  as  you  have  done  for  Edward,  than  I  could  my 
Eimneline  for  Percy?  Do  you  not  think,  when  she  had  learn- 
ed to  feel  as  I  do,  which  she  had  already  begun  to  do,  that  she 
would  have  recalled  that  fatal  promise,  and  entreated  you  not 
lo  act  upon  it  ?  What  has  it  ever  done  but  to  make  you  so 
painfully  suffer,  lead  you  often  into  error,  and  confirm,  by  con- 
cealment, Edward's  faults  ?  " 

Ellen's  tears  were  falling  fast  and  freely,  but  they  were  hardly 
tears  of  pain.  Her  aunt's  words  seemed  to  disperse  a  thick 
mist  from  her  brain  and  heart,  and  for  the  first  time,  to  satisfy 
her  that  she  might  dismiss  the  painful  memory  of  her  promise, 
and  dismiss  it  without  blame  or  disobedience  to  her  mother. 

Mrs.  Hamilton  had  begun  the  conversation  in  trembling,  for 
it  seemed  so  difficult  to  accomplish  her  object  without  undue 
condemnation  of  her  sister ;  but  as  Ellen,  clasping  her  arms 
about  her  neck,  tried  to  thank  her  again  and  again,  for  taking 
such  a  heavy  load  from  her  heart,  saying  that  she  would  still 
help  Edward  just  the  same,  and  she  would  try  to  guard  him 
and  herself  from  doing  wrong,  that  her  mother  should  love  her 
still,  she  felt  she  had  succeeded,  and  silently,  but  how  fervently, 
thanked  God. 

''But  will  you  tell  me  one  thing,  aunt  Emmeline  ?  Why, 
if  the  promise  were  mistaken,  and  poor  mamma  would  have 
wished  it  recalled,  did  I  always  seem  to  see  her  so.  distinctly, 
and  fancy  she  so  desired  me  to  save  Edward  from  my  uncle's 
displeasure  ?  " 

"  Because  you  have  a  very  strong  imagination,  my  love,  in- 
creased by  dwelling  on  this  subject ;  and  in  your  last  trial  your 
mind  was  in  such  a  fearful  and  unnatural  state  of  excitement, 
that  your  imagination  became  actually  diseased.  It  was  not  at 
all  surprising ;  for  much  older  and  stronger,  and  wiser  persons 
would  have  experienced  the  same,  under  the  same  pressure  of 
grief,  and  terror,  and  remorse.  But  what  can  I  do,  to  cure 
this  morbid  imagination,  Ellen?"  she  continued,  playfully; 
'sentence  you,  as  soon  as  you  get  well  to  a  course  of  malbe- 
tnatic.s,  six  hours  each  day  ?  " 


534  HOME   INFLUENCE. 

"  I  am  afraid  my  poor  head  will  be  more  stupid  at  figure? 
than  ever,"  replied  Ellen,  trying  to  smile,  too. 

"  Then  I  suppose  I  must  think  of  something  else.  Will  you 
follow  Emmeliue's  example,  and  tell  me  every  thing,  however 
foolish  or  unfounded  it  may  seem,  that  comes  into  this  littk 
head  —  whether  it  worries  or  pleases  you  ?  You  have  nothing/ 
and  you  will  have  nothing  ever  again,  I  trust,  to  conceal  from 
me,  my  dear  Ellen  ;  and  if  you  will  do  this,  you  will  give  me 
more  comfort  individually,  and  more  security  for  the  further- 
ance of  your  happiness,  as  far  as  my  love  can  promote  it,  than 
any  other  plan." 

Her  playfulness  had  given  place  to  renewed  earnestness,  and 
Ellen,  as  if  in  the  very  thought  of  such  perfect  confidence 
dwelt  security  and  peace,  so  long  unknown  to  her,  gave  the  re- 
quired assurance  so  eagerly  and  gratefully,  that  Mrs.  Hamil- 
ton was  satisfied  and  happy. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

THE    LOSS    OF    THE    SIREN. 

that  day,  Ellen's  recovery,  though  a  sad  trial  of  pa- 
tience both  to  the  young  invalid  and  her  affectionate  nurses, 
was  surely  progressive,  without  any  of  those  painful  relapses 
which  had  so  tried  Mr.  Maitland's  skill  before.  She  no  longer 
shrunk  from  the  society  of  her  relations,  receiving  Caroline's 
and  Miss  Harcourt's  many  kind  attentions  with  surprise  indeed, 
for  she  could  not  imagine  what  could  have  so  altered  their 
feelings  toward  her,  but  with  that  evident  gratitude  and  plea- 
sure, which  encourages  a  continuance  of  kindness.  Emmeline 
was  always  kind,  but  it  was  indeed  happiness  to  feel  she  might 
talk  with  and  share  her  amusements,  as  in  former  days ;  and 
that,  instead  of  thinking  she  ought  not  to  receive  her  aunt's 
affection,  the  only  thing  she  asked  in  return  was  her  full  con- 
fidence. The  inexpressible  rest  to  poor  Ellen  which  that  con- 
versation gave  is  not  to  be  described.  It  was  so  blessed,  so 
soothing,  that  it  seemed  too  unnatural  to  last,  and  the  secret 
dread  that  her  uncle  would  not  feel  toward  her  and  Edward  as 
her  aunt  did  was  its  only  alloy.  Edward,  too,  was  cheerful, 
and  almost  happy  when  with  her ;  and  a  long  conversation 


HOME   INFLUENCE. 

with  Mr.  Howard,  which  that  worthy  man  insisted  upon  hav- 
ing as  soon  as  she  Avas  strong  enough,  to  remove  the  false  im- 
pressions which  his  severity  had  given,  and  which  never  ceased 
to  grieve  and  reproach  him,  caused  his  almost  daily  visits  to  be 
anticipated  by  her  with  as  much  gladness  as  they  had  before 
brought  dread. 

"And  now  that  anxiety  for  Ellen  is  at  an  end,  I  must  have 
you  take  more  care  of  yourself,  Mrs.  Hamilton.  Your  hus- 
band's last  injunctions  were,  that  I  should  never  pass  a  week 
without  calling  once  or  twice  at  Oakwood  to  know  how  all  was 
going  on,  and  what  would  he  say  to  me  if  he  could  see  you 
now  ?  " 

"  He  little  thought  how  my  strength  would  be  tried,  my  good 
friend,  and  so  will  quite  acquit  you.  I  assure  you  that,  phy- 
sically, I  am  perfectly  well "  —  (the  worthy  doctor  shook  his 
head  most  unbelievingly)  —  "  but  even  with  one  great  anxiety 
calmed,  there  remains  another,  which  every  week  increases. 
It  is  more  than  double  the  usual  time  of  hearing  from  my  hus- 
band. We  have  never  had  any  answer  to  the  letters  detailing 
Ellen's  danger  and  Edward's  return,  and  the  answers  have 
been  due  a  full  month." 

"  But  the  weather  has  been  so  unusually  tempestuous,  it  may 
have  been  impossible  for  the  Siren  to  ply  to  and  fro  from  Feroe 
to  Scotland,  as  Hamilton  wished,  and  no  ships  are  likely  to 
touch  at  those  islands  in  the  winter.  I  really  think  you  need 
not  be  anxious  on  that  score  ;  none  but  Arthur  Hamilton's 
head  could  have  contrived  your  hearing  as  regularly  from  such 
an  outlandish  place  as  you  have  done.  No  news  is  good  news, 
depend  upon  it.  He  may  be  anxious  on  your  account,  and 
returning  himself." 

"  God  forbid  !  "  answered  Mrs.  Hamilton,  turning  very  pale  ; 
"  better  the  anxiety  of  not  hearing  from  him  than  the  thought 
of  his  being  at  sea  in  this  season." 

Oakwood  had  resumed  its  regular  happy  aspect,  though 
Ellen  was  still  up-stairs.  Morris  and  Ellis  had  once  more 
(he  happiness  of  their  beloved  mistress's  superintendence,  and 
proud  were  they  both,  as  if  Caroline  had  been  their  own  child, 
lo  show  all  she  had  done,  and  so  unostentatiously,  to  save  her 
mother  trouble  when  she  had  been  too  anxious  to  think  of  any 
ihing  but  Ellen ;  and  the  mother's  heart  swelled  with  a  deli- 
cious feeling  of  gratitude  to  Him  who,  if  in  making  her  so 
acutely  sensible  of  her  solemn  responsibility  had  deepened  and 
extended  anxiety,  had  yet  in  the  same  measure  heightened  and 
spiritualized  joy.  The  fruit  was  indeed  worth  the  -nurture, 


836  HOME   INFLUENCE 

though  it  might  have  been  often  washed  with  tears.  Intense/) 
anxious  as  she  felt  herself,  as  did  also  Mr.  Howard  and  Mr 
Maitland,  t.nd,  in  fact,  all  Arthur  Hamilton's  friends,  she  yet 
tried  to  sustain  the  spirits  of  her  children,  for  the  young  men 
had  evidently  grown  anxious  on  the  subject  too.  It  was  not 
unlikely  that  the  seas  round  Feroe,  always  stormy,  should  pre- 
vent any  ship  leaving  the  island,  and  the  young  people  eagerly 
grasped  the  idea :  so  painful  is  it  to  youth  to  realize  a  cause 
for  anxiety  ;  but  even  they,  at  times,  grew  unconsciously  sad  and 
meditating,  as  the  usually  joyous  season  of  Christmas  and  New 
Year  passed,  and  still  there  was  no  letter.  Ellen  and  Edward 
both  in  secret  dreaded  the  arrival  of  the  answer  to  the  latter's 
confession  ;  but  still  their  affection  for  Mrs.  Hamilton  was  too 
powerful  to  permit  any  thought  of  self  interfering  with  the 
wish  that  her  anxiety  might  be  calmed. 

In  January  the  weather  changed  ;  the  tremendous  winds 
gave  place  to  an  almost  unnatural  calm,  and  to  such  excessive 
mildness  and  closeness  of  atmosphere,  that  it  affected  the  health 
of  many  who  were  strong,  and  not  only  made  Ellen  very  lan^ 
guid,  but  frequently  recalled  those  dreadful  headaches  wider, 
were  in  themselves  an  illness.  Business  called  Mr.  Howard  to 
Dartmouth  near  the  end  of  the  month,  and  he  prevailed  on  Ed- 
ward to  accompany  him,  for  whenever  his  sister  was  more  than 
usually  suffering  his  gloom  redoubled.  The  first  few  days  were 
so  fine  that  the  change  renovated  him ;  Mr.  Howard  declared 
it  was  the  sight  of  old  ocean,  and  Edward  did  not  deny  it ;  for 
though  it  was  good  for  the  permanence  of  his  repentance  and 
resolution  to  amend,  to  have  the  influence  of  his  home  suffi- 
ciently long,  his  spirit  inwardly  chafed  at  his  detention,  and 
yearned  to  be  at  sea  again,  and  giving  proof  of  his  determina- 
tion to  become  indeed  a  British  sailor. 

The  third  day  of  their  visit,  the  lull  and  heaviness  of  the  air 
increased  so  strangely  and  closely,  for  January,  as  to  seem 
almost  portentous.  Edward  and  Mr.  Howard  lingered  on  the 
beach  ;  the  well-practised  eye  of  the  former  tracing,  in  many 
little  things  unseen  to  landsmen,  the  slow,  but  sure  approach  of 
a  fearful  storm. 

"It  is  strange  for  the  season,  but  there  is  certainly  electricity 
in  the  air,"  he  said,  directing  Mr.  Howard's  attention  to  ridges 
of  white-fringed  clouds  floating  under  the  heavens,  whose  murky 
hue  was  becoming  denser  and  denser ;  and  ever  and  anon,  as 
lashed  by  some  as  yet  silent  and  invisible  blast,  the  ocean 
heaved  and  foamed,  and  gave  sure  evidence  of  approaching 
'.ury  ;  "  there  will  be.  I  'ear  a  terrible  storm  to-night ;  and 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  337 

look  at  those  birds,"  (several  sea-gulls  were  skimming  along  the 
waves  almost  bathing  their  white  plumage  in  the  blackened 
waters),  "  strange  how  they  always  herald  tempest !  Emmeline 
would  call  them  spirits  of  the  blast,  revelling  in  the  destruction 
it  foretells !  " 

"  It  is  approaching  already,"  rejoined  Mr.  Howard,  as  a  long 
hollow  blast  moaned  and  shivered  round  them,  followed  by  the 
roar  of  a  mountainous  wave  bursting  on  the  beach.  "  God  have 
mercy  on  all  exposed  to  its  fury  !  "  and  he  gladly  turned  more 
inland,  while  Edward  remained  watching  its  progress  with  an 
almost  pleasurable  feeling  of  excitement,  only  wishing  he 
could  but  be  on  the  sea,  to  enjoy  it  as  such  a  storm  deserved 
to  be. 

As  the  day  drew  to  a  close  it  increased,  and  as  darkness  set 
in,  its  fury  became  appalling.  Blasts,  long  and  loud  as  the  re- 
verberation of  artillery,  succeeded  one  another  with  awful  ra- 
pidity, tearing  up  huge  trees  by  the  roots,  and  tiles  from  the 
roofs.  Now  and  then,  at  distant  intervals,  blue  lightning  played 
through  the  black  heavens,  betraying  that  thunder  had  mingled 
with  the  wind,  though  it  was  impossible  to  distinguish  the  one 
sound  from  the  other ;  and  as  the  gusts  passed  onward,  streaks 
of  white  and  spots  of  strange  unnatural  blue  gleamed  through 
the  gloom  for  a  moment's  space,  leaving  deeper  darkness  as 
they  disappeared.  The  ocean,  lashed  to  wildest  fury,  rolled  in 
huge  mountains  of  troubled  waters,  throwing  up  showers  of 
snowy  foam,  contrasting  strangely  with  the  darkness  of  earth 
and  heaven,  and  bursting  with  a  sound  that  deadened  for  the 
time  even  the  wild  roar  of  the  blast.  To  read  or  even  to  con- 
verse, in  their  comfortable  quarters  in  the  hotel,  which  over- 
looked the  sea,  became  as  impossible  to  Mr.  Howard  as  to  Ed- 
ward. About  eleven  o'clock,  however,  the  wind  suddenly  veered 
and  lulled,  only  sending  forth  now  and  then  a  long  sobbing  wail, 
as  if  regretful  that  its  work  of  destruction  was  even  checked  ; 
but  the  sea  raged  with  equal  fury,  presenting  a  spectacle  as 
magnificent,  as  awful,  and  giving  no  appearance  of  a  calm.  A 
sharp  report  sounded  suddenly  from  the  sea  —  whether  it  was 
the  first,  or  that  others  might  have  been  lost  in  the  tumult  of 
the  winds  and  waves,  who  might  answer?  Another,  and  another, 
at  such  rapid  intervals,  that  the  danger  was  evidently  imminent, 
and  Edward  started  to  his  feet.  Again  —  and  he  could  bear  it 
no  longer.  Hurriedly  exclaiming,  "  They  are  signals  of  distress 
and  close  at  hand  !  Something  must  be  done  ;  no  sailor  can  sit 
still,  and  see  sailors  perish ! "  he  rushed  to  the  beach,  closely 
followed  by  Mr.  Howard,  who  was  resolved  on  preventing  any 


838  HOME   INFLUENCE. 

mad  attempt.  Crowds  of  fishermen  and  townsmen  had  con 
gregated  on  the  beach,  drawn  by  that  fearful  sound,  which,  by 
the  light  from  the  guns  seemed  scarcely  half  a  mile  distant ; 
and  yet  so  perilous  was  the  present  appearance  of  the  ocean, 
that  to  go  to  their  assistance  seemed  impossible.  Suddenly, 
however,  Edward's  voice  exclaimed,  with  the  glad  and  eager 
tone  of  perfect  confidence,  "  They  can  be  saved !  —  a  strong 
boat  and  two  willing  rowers,  and  I  will  undertake  to  reach  the 
vessel,  and  bring  the  crew  safe  to  shore.  Who  among  you,"  he 
continued,  turning  eagerly  to  the  group  of  hardy  fishermen, 
"  will  be  my  assistants  in  this  act  of  common  humanity  ?  who 
possesses  willing  hearts  and  able  hands,  and  will  lend  them  ?  " 

"  No  one  who  cares  for  his  life ! "  was  the  sullen  answer 
from  one  of  those  he  addressed,  and  the  rest  stood  silent,  eye- 
ing, half  disdainfully  half  admiringly,  the  slight  figure  of  the 
young  sailor,  revealed  as  it  was,  in  the  fitful  light  of  the  many 
torches  scattered  by  the  various  groups  along  the  beach.  "  It 
is  well  for  boys  to  talk,  we  cannot  expect  old  heads  on  young 
shoulders  ;  but  not  a  boat  with  my  consent  leaves  the  harbor 
to-night ;  it  would  be  wilful  murder." 

"  I  tell  you  I  will  stake  my  life  on  the  venture,"  answered 
Edward,  his  passion  rising  high.  "  Am  I  speaking  to  sailors, 
ind  can  they  hesitate  when  they  hear  such  sounds  ?  Give  me 
but  a  boat,  and  I  will  go  by  myself:  and  when  you  need  aid, 
may  you  find  those  to  give  it !  you  will  scarce  dare  ask  it,  if 
that  vessel  perish  before  your  eyes.  Lend  me  a  boat,  I  say, 
fitted  for  such  a  sea,  and  the  lender  shall  be  rewarded  hand- 
somely. If  there  be  such  risk,  I  ask  none  to  share  it ;  my  life 
is  my  own,  and  I  will  peril  it." 

It  would  have  made  a  fine  scene  for  a  painter,  that  young, 
slight  form  and  boyish  face,  surrounded  by  those  weather-beaten 
men,  every  countenance  expressing  some  different  emotion,  yet 
almost  all  unwilling  admiration  ;  the  torches'  glare,  so  lurid  on 
the  pitchy  darkness  ;  the  sheets  of  foam,  rising  and  falling  like 
showers  of  dazzling  snow  ;  the  craggy  background  ;  and,  out 
at  sea,  the  unfortunate  vessel,  a  perfect  wreck,  struggling  still 
with  the  fast-rising  waters.  Mr.  Howard  saw  all,  but  with  no 
thought  of  the  picturesque,  his  mind  was  far  otherwise  en- 
gaged. 

"  Jiy  Neptune  !  but  your  honor  shall  not  go  alone  !  I  have 
neither  parent,  nor  sister,  nor  wife  to  pipe  for  me,  if  I  go;  so 
my  life  must  be  of  less  moment  than  yours,  and  if  you  can  so 
peril  it,  why  should  not  I  ?"  exclaimed  a  stalwart  young  fisher- 
man, advancing,  and  Edward  eagerly  grasped  his  rough  hand, 


HOME  INFLUENCE.  339 

conjuring  him  to  get  his  boat  at  once,  t.iere  was  net  a  moment 
to  lose ;  but  the  example  was  infectious,  and  an  old  man  has- 
tily stepped  forward,  declaring  the  youngsters  had  taught  him 
his  duty,  and  he  would  do  it. 

"  Great  God !  what  do  they  say  ? "  exclaimed  Edward,  as 
his  younger  companion  hastened  down  the  beach  to  bring  hia 
boat  to  the  leeward  of  the  cliff,  to  launch  it  more  securely,  and 
a  rumor  ran  through  the  crowds,  whence  arising  it  was  impossi- 
ble to  discover.  "  The  Siren  —  Captain  Harvey  —  my  uncle's 
ship  !  —  and  he  must  be  in  her  —  she  would  never  leave  Feroe 
without  him.  What  foundation  is  there  for  this  rumor  ?  let  me 
know,  for  God's  sake  ! " 

But  none  could  tell  more  than  that  a  vessel,  entering  the 
harbor  just  before  the  gale,  had  hailed  the  Siren,  about  twenty 
miles  distant,  and  she  seemed  laboring  heavily,  and  in  such  a 
distressed  state  that  a  very  little  would  finish  her.  Not  a  word 
escaped  Edward's  lips,  which  grew  for  the  moment  blanched 
as  marble.  Mr.  Howard,  to  whom  the  rumor  had  brought  the 
most  intense  agony,  for  not  a  doubt  of  its  truth  would  come  to 
relieve  him,  was  at  his  side,  grasping  his  hand,  and  murmur- 
ing hoarsely  — 

"Edward,  my  poor  boy,  must  your  life  be  perilled  too?  — 
both  —  both  —  this  is  awful !  " 

"  Let  me  but  save  him,  and  if  I  perish  it  will  be  in  a  good 
cause.  Tell  aunt  Emmeline,  I  know  she  will  comfort  my  poor 
Ellen ;  and  that  the  boy  she  has  saved  from  worse  misery  than 
death,  did  all  he  could  to  save  her  husband  !  and  if  I  fail "  — 
he  stopped,  in  strong  emotion,  then  added — "give  Ellen  this, 
and  this,"  he  cut  off  a  lock  of  his  hair  with  his  dirk,  and  placed 
it  and  his  watch  in  Mr.  Howard's  trembling  hand.  —  "  And 
now,  my  friend,  God  bless  you  and  reward  you,  too ! "  He 
threw  himself  a  moment  in  Mr.  Howard's  arms,  kissed  his 
cheek,  and,  darting  down  the  beach,  leaped  into  the  boat,  which 
was  dancing  like  a  nutshell  on  the  water.  It  was  several  mi- 
nutes, ere  they  could  succeed  in  getting  her  off,  the  waves  seem- 
ing determined  to  cast  her  back  ;  but  they  were  fairly  launched 
at  length,  and  then  they  heeded  not  that  one  minute  they  rode 
high  on  a  mountain  Avave,  seeming  as  if  nothing  could  save 
them  from  being  dashed  in  the  abyss  below  ;  the  next  were 
buried  in  a  deep  valley,  surrounded  by  huge  walls  of  water, 
threatening  to  burst  and  overwhelm  them.  For  a  boat  to 
live  in  such  a  sea  at  all  seemed  miraculous;  and  old  Collins 
always  declared  that  unless  some  angel  sat  at  the  helm  with 
Kdward,  no  human  arm  could  have  taken  them  in  safety.  If 


340  HOME   INFLUENCE. 

it  were  an  angel,  it  was  the  pure  thought,  the  faith-winged 
prayer,  that  he  might  be  the  instrument,  in  the  Eternal's  hand, 
of  turning  aside  death  and  misery  from  that  beloved  home,  in 
which  even  his  errors  had  been  met  with  love,  and  conquered 
by  forgiveness. 

With  every  effort,  and  they  were  such  as  to  bid  the  perspira- 
tion stream  down  the  face  and  arms  of  those  strong  men,  and 
almost  exhaust  Edward,  for  he  took  an  oar  in  turn,  it  was  full 
an  hour  from  their  leaving  the  shore  before  they  reached  the 
ship.  She  had  ceased  firing,  for  by  the  lights  on  shore  they 
had  discovered  the  boat's  departure,  and  watched  her  progress 
by  the  lantern  at  her  head,  as  only  those  can  watch  who  feel, 
one  short  hour  more,  and  their  ship  will  float  no  longer  ! 

Collins  was  spokesman,  for  Edward,  as  they  grappled  the 
boat  alongside,  had  sunk  down  for  the  moment  powerless  by 
the  helm  ;  roused,  however,  effectually  by  the  answer  — 

"  The  Siren  —  bound  to  Dartmouth  —  from  Feroe  —  owner 
Arthur  Hamilton,  passenger  —  now  on  board  —  nine  in  crew." 

"  In  with  you  all  then  —  that  is  Captain  Harvey's  voice,  I'll 
be  sworn ;  the  rumor  was  only  too  true." 

"Ay,  old  Collins ! "  returned  the  Captain ;  "  we  thought  to 
perish  in  sight  of  our  own  homes ;  now,  Mr.  Hamilton,  not  a 
man  will  stir  till  you  are  safe ! " 

His  companion  leaped  into  the  boat  without  reply,  and,  sink- 
ing on  one  of  the  benches,  drew  his  cloak  closely  round  his  face, 
Peril  was  indeed  still  around  him,  but  compared  with  the  — 
even  to  that  Heaven-directed  heart  —  terrible  struggle  of  be- 
holding death,  rising  slowly  but  surely  round  him  in  the  water- 
filling  ship,  almost  within  sight  and  sound  of  his  home,  his  be- 
loved ones,  the  mere  hope  of  life  seemed  almost  overpowering. 
The  crew  of  the  hapless  Siren  quickly  deserted  her.  Captain 
Harvey  was  the  last  to  descend,  and,  as  he  did  so,  a  block  of 
iron,  loosened  from  its  place,  fell  cornerwise,  and  struck  sharply 
on  Edward's  forehead,  almost  stunning  him  for  the  moment,  as 
he  watched  the  Captain's  descent.  He  felt  the  blood  slowly 
trickling  down  his  temple  and  cheek;  but  he  was  not  one  to  be 
daunted  by  pain:  he  resumed  his  station  at  the  helm  in  un- 
broken silence,  only  speaking  when  directions  were  absolutely 
necessary,  and  then  only  in  a  few  brief  sailor-terms.  They  had 
scarcely  proceeded  a  third  of  their  way,  when  the  waters  boiled 
and  foamed  as  tossed  by  some  strange  whirlpool,  and  it  required 
all  Edward's  address  and  skill  as  steersman  to  prevent  the  frail 
bo/xt  from  being  drawn  into  the  vortex.  The  cause  was  soon 
displayed,  and  every  heart  shuddered,  for  ten  minutes  later,  and 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  341 

help  would  indeed  have  been  in  vain.  The  unfortmate  vessel 
had  sunk  —  been  swallowed  up  in  those  rushing  waters;  the 
suction  of  so  large  a  mass,  producing  for  a  brief  interval  the 
effect  of  a  whirlpool.  The  silence  of  awe  and  of  intense  thank- 
fulness, fell  on  the  heart  of  every  man,  and  more  than  all  on  his 
who  had  so  far  recovered  his  first  emotion  as  to  gaze  wonder 
ingly  and  admiringly  on  the  boyish  figure  at  the  helm,  whose 
voice  was  utterly  unknown,  and  whose  features  the  fitful  light, 
and  the  youth's  steadfast  gaze  on  his  rowers,  prevented  his 
tracing  with  any  certainty. 

The  crowds  had  increased  on  the  shore,  watching  with  in- 
tense eagerness  the  return  of  the  boat;  but  the  expectation 
was  too  deep  for  sound,  silence  almost  portentous  reigned.  A 
huge  sea  had  concealed  her  for  several  minutes,  and  Mr.  How- 
ard, who  during  these  two  long  hours  had  remained  spell- 
bound on  the  beach,  groaned  aloud  in  his  agony;  again  she 
was  visible,  driven  on  with  fearful  velocity  by  the  tide,  nearer, 
nearer  still.  He  thought  he  could  distinguish  the  figure  of  his 
friend :  he  was  sure  he  could  hear  the  voice  of  Edward,  urging, 
commanding,  directing  a  landing  somewhere,  in  contradiction 
to  the  opinion  of  others.  They  were  within  a  dozen  yards  of 
the  shore,  but  still  not  a  sound  of  gratulation  was  heard.  Every 
eye  was  fixed,  as  in  the  fascination  of  terror,  on  a  wave  in  the 
distance,  increasing  in  size  and  fury  as  it  rapidly  approached. 
It  neared  the  boat  —  it  stood  impending  over  the  frail  thing  as 
a  mighty  avalanche  of  waters  —  it  burst ;  the  boat  was  seen  no 
longer,  and  a  wild  and  terrible  cry  sounded  far  and  near  along 
the  beach ! 


CHAPTER  XII. 

FOREBODINGS. 

THE  whole  of  the  day  Mrs.  Hamilton  had  vainly  tried  In 
shake  off  a  most  unwonted  gloom.  Convinced  herself  that  it 
was  greatly  physical,  from  the  unusual  oppressiveness  of  tl  e 
weather  relaxing  the  nerves,  which  had  so  many  months  been 
overstrained,  yet  her  thoughts  would  cling  to  Mr.  Maitland't- 
words,  that  her  husband  might  be  coming  home  himst  If;  but 
if  the  accounts  of  Ellen's  danger  and  Edward's  confession  had 
recalled  him,  he  ought  to  have  arrived  full  two  or  three  week* 
16 


342  HOMK   INFLUENCE. 

previous.  The  gale  that  swept  round  lier — the  awful  anl  un- 
natural darkness  —  the  remarkable  phenomena,  at  that  season, 
of  lightning  —  and  the  long,  loud  thunder-claps  *  which  inland 
could  be  fearfully  distinguished  from  the  gale,  appalled  the 
whole  household  ;  and  therefore  it  was  not  much  wonder  that 
the  vague  idea  of  her  husband's  having  left  Feroe,  and  expo- 
sure to  such  a  tempest,  should  become  in  that  fearful  anxiety 
almost  a  certainty  of  agony.  It  was  well,  perhaps,  that  her 
unselfish  nature  had  an  object  to  draw  her  in  some  slight  degree 
out  of  herself,  for  her  firmness,  her  trust  beyond  the  accidents 
of  earth,  all  seemed  about  to  fail  her,  and  make  her  for  the 
time  being  most  wretched.  As  the  storm  and  closeness  in- 
creased, so  did  Ellen's  feverish  restlessness  ;  her  nerves,  not 
yet  fully  restored,  felt  strung  almost  to  torture  with  every  flash, 
and  clap,  and  blast.  She  tried  to  laugh  at  her  own  folly  ;  for, 
though  often  terrified,  when  a  little  child,  at  the  storms  in  India, 
those  of  England  had  never  affected  her  at  all,  and  she  could 
not  understand  why  she  should  feel  this  so  childishly.  But 
argument  is  of  little  moment  in  such  cases  ;  and  Mrs.  Ham:'- 
ton,  satisfying  her  that  she  could  no  more  help  her  present  sen- 
sation than  her  physical  weakness,  tried  to  soothe  and  amuse 
her,  and  in  so  doing  partially  cheered  herself.  She  did  not 
leave  her  till  past  midnight ;  and  then  desiring  Mrs.  Langford 
to  sit  up  with  her  till  she  was  comfortably  asleep,  retired  to  her 
own  bed-room.  Never  since  her  husband's  absence  had  its  soli- 
tude felt  so  vast  —  so  heavily  oppressive  ;  thought  after  thought 
of  him  thronged  her  mind  till  she  fairly  gave  up  the  effort  to 
struggle  with  them.  "  Will  his  voice  ever  sound  here  again, 
his  heart  give  me  the  support  I  need  ?  "  rose  to  her  lips,  as  she 
gazed  round  her,  and  the  deep  stillness,  the  gloom  only  broken 
by  a  small  silver  lamp,  and  the  fitful  light  of  the  fire,  seemed 
but  a  solemn  answer.  She  buried  her  face  in  her  clasped  hands, 
and  the  clock  struck  two  before  that  inward  conflict  permitted 
her  once  more  to  lift  up  heart  and  brow  in  meek,  trusting  faith 
to  Him  who  still  watched  over  her  and  her  beloved  ones  ;  and 
after  an  earnest,  voiceless  prayer,  she  drew  her  little  table,  with 
its  books  of  devotion,  to  the  fire,  and  read  thoughtfully,  prayer- 
fully, for  another  hour,  and  then  sought  her  couch.  But  she 
could  not  sleep  ;  the  wind  had  again  arisen,  and  fearing  to  lie 
awake  and  listen  to  it  would  only  renew  her  unusual  agitation,  she 

*  These  storms,  ns  occurring  in  Devonshire,  in  both  January  and  February 
we  no  creation  of  the  imagination;  the  author  lias  heard  them  herself,  and 
more  than  on<j  oflicor  in  the  1'rcvciitive  Service  has  mentioned  their  as  occur 
ring  during  the  night-watches,  and  of  awful  violence. 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  34!i 

rose  at  four,  dressed  herself,  and  throwing  on  a  large  shawl, 
softly  traversed  the  passage,  and  entered  her  niece's  room  ; 
finding  her,  as  she  fully  expected,  as  wakeful  and  rest  ess  as 
herself,  with  the  addition  of  an  intense  headache.  Sle  had 
persuaded  nurse  Langford  to  go  to  bed,  but  the  pain  had  come 
on  since  then,  and  made  her  more  restless  and  feverish  than 
before.  She  could  not  lie  in  any  posture  to  get  ease,  till  at 
last,  about  six  o'clock,  completely  exhausted,  she  fell  asleep, 
sitting  almost  upright  in  her  aunt's  arms,  her  head  leaning 
against  her,  as  she  stood  by  the  bed-side.  Fearing  to  disturb 
her,  Mrs.  Hamilton  would  not  move,  desiring  the  morning  pray- 
ers to  be  said  without  ber,  and  Miss  Harcourt  and  her  daughters 
not  to  wait  breakfast,  as  she  would  have  it  with  Ellen  when  she 
awoke:  That  she  was  stiff  and  exhausted  with  three  hours' 
standing  in  one  position,  she  did  not  heed,  perhaps  scarcely  felt, 
for  woman's  loveliest  attribute,  that  of  a  tender  and  utterly  un- 
selfish nurse,  was  hers  to  perfection.  But  she  did  not  refuse 
the  cup  of  chocolate  Caroline  brought  her  herself,  and  with 
affectionate  earnestness  entreated  her  to  take. 

"  You  look  so  fatigued  and  so  pale,  dearest  mother,  I  wish 
you  would  let  me  take  your  place  ;  I  would  be  so  quiet,  so  gen- 
tle, Ellen  would  not  even  know  her  change  of  nurses." 

"  I  do  not  doubt  your  care,  love,  but  I  fear  the  least  move- 
ment will  disturb  this  poor  child,  and  she  has  had  such  a  rest- 
less night,  I  want  her  to  sleep  as  long  as  she  can.  Your  thought- 
ful care  has  so  refreshed  me,  that  I  feel  quite  strong  again,  so 
go  and  finish  your  breakfast  in  comfort,  dearest." 

Caroline  very  unwillingly  obeyed,  and  about  a  quarter  of  an 
hour  afterward,  Mrs.  Hamilton  was  startled  by  the  sound  of  a 
carnage  advancing  with  unusual  velocity  to  the  house.  It 
stopped  at  the  main  entrance,  and  she  had  scarcely  time  to 
wonder  who  could  be  such  very  early  visitors,  when  a  loud 
scream,  in  the  voice  of  Emmeline,  rung  in  her  ears  ;  whether 
of  joy  or  grief  she  could  not  distinguish,  but  it  was  the  voice 
of  her  child,  and  the  already  tortured  nerves  of  the  wife  and 
mother  could  not  bear  it  without  a  sensation  of  terror,  amount- 
ing to  absolute  agony.  She  laid  Ellen's  head  tenderly  on  the 
pillow,  watched  over  her,  though  her  limbs  so  trembled  she 
could  scarcely  support  herself,  saw  with  intense  relief  that  the 
movement  had  not  disturbed  her  quiet  sleep,  and  calling  Mrs. 
Langford  from  an  adjoining  room,  hastily  descended  the  stairs, 
(hough  how  she  did  so,  and  entered  the  breakfast-room,  she 
always  said  she  never  knew.  Many  and  eager  and  glad  voices 
*rere  speaking  at  once  ;  the  very  servants  thronged  the  lni.ll  ard 
threshold  of  the  room  but  a'l  made  way  for  her. 


344  HOME   INFLUENCE. 

"  Arthur !  —  my  husband  ! "  she  did  find  voice  to  exclaim 
but  every  object  but  his  figure  reeled  before  her,  and  she  faint- 
ed in  his  arms. 

It  was  some  time  before  she  recovered,  for  mind  and  frame 
had  been  too  long  overtasked ;  and  Mr.  Hamilton,  as  he  clasp- 
ed her  in  his  arms,  beseeching  her  only  to  speak  to  him,  and 
gazed  on  her  deathlike  countenance,  felt  in  a  moment  that  great 
as  his  anxiety  had  been  for  her,  he  had  not  imagined  one  half 
she  hud  endured.  His  voice  —  his  kiss  — seemed  to  rouse  the 
scattered  senses,  even  more  effectually  than  Miss  Harcourt's 
anxiously  proffered  remedies ;  but  she  could  not  speak,  she 
only  looked  up  in  his  face,  as  if  to  be  quite,  quite  sure  he  had 
indeed  returned ;  that  her  vague  fancies  of  danger,  even  if  they 
had  foundation,  had  merged  in  the  most  blissful  reality,  that 
she  was  no  longer  alone  ;  and  leaning  her  head  on  his  bosom, 
was  only  conscious  of  a  thankfulness  too  deep  for  words ;  a  re- 
pose that,  since  his  departure,  she  had  not  known  for  a  single 
day.  Neither  she  nor  her  husband  could  believe  that  it  was 
only  six  months  since  they  had  been  separated.  It  seemed, 
and  to  Mrs.  Hamilton  especially,  as  if  she  must  have  lived 
through  years  in  that  time,  it  had  been  so  fraught  with  sorrow. 

"  Not  one  word,  my  own  dearest !  and  only  these  pallid 
cheeks  and  heavy  eyes  to  greet  me.  Must  I  reproach  you 
directly  I  come  home,  for,  as  usual,  not  thinking  enough  of 
yourself;  forgetting  how  precious- is  that  self  to  so  many  your 
husband  above  all  ?  " 

"  Nay,  papa,  you  shall  not  scold  mamma,"  said  Emmtilne, 
eagerly,  as  her  mother  tried  to  smile  and  speak  in  answer. 
"  She  ought  to  scold  you,  for  not  sending  us  one  line  to  prepare 
us  for  your  unexpected  presence,  and  frightening  us  all  by  com- 
ing so  suddenly  upon  us,  and  making  mamma  faint,  as  I  never 
saw  her  do  before.  Indeed  I  do  not  like  it,  mother  darling  !  " 
continued  the  affectionate  girl,  kneeling  down  by  her  mother, 
and  clinging  to  her,  adding,  in  a  suppressed,  terrified  voice, 
"  It  was  so  like  death." 

Mrs.  Hamilton  read  in  a  moment  that  Emmeline's  playful- 
ness was  only  assumed  to  hide  strong  emotion ;  that  she  was 
trying  very  hard  for  complete  control,  but  so  trembling,  that 
she  knelt  down,  literally  because  she  could  not  stand.  It  was 
such  a  proof  of  her  endeavor  to  profit  by  her  mother's  gentle 
lessons,  that  even  at  that  moment  it  not  only  gave  her  the 
sweetest  gratification,  but  helped  her  to  rouse  herself. 

"  Indaed,  I  think  you  are  perfectly  right,  Emmy,"  she  said, 
quite  in  her  usual  voice,  as  she  pressed  her  child  a  moment  to 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  345 

her,  and  kissed  her  cheek,  which  was  almost  as  pale  as  he* 
own,  "  I  will  not  submit  to  any  scolding,  when  papa  himself 
is  answerable  for  my  unusual  weakness  ;  but  as  we  wanted  him 
BO  very  much,  why,  we  will  be  lenient  with  him,  and  only  keep 
him  prisoner  with  us  for  some  time  to  come.  But  get  him 
breakfast  quickly,  Caroline,  love ;  such  an  early  visitor  must 
want  it.  When  did  you  arrive,  dearest  Arthur  ?  "  she  added, 
looking  earnestly  in  his  face,  and  half  wondering  at  the  expres- 
sion upon  it,  it  seemed  to  speak  so  many  tilings ;  "  surely  not 
tliis  morning  ?  You  were  not  at  sea  in  yesterday's  awful 
storm  ?  " 

*'  I  was  indeed,  my  Emmeline  ;  can  you  bear  to  hear  it,  or 
have  you  been  agitated  enough  already  ?  I  have  been  in  dan- 
ger, great  danger,  but  our  Father's  infinite  mercy  has  preserved 
me  to  you  all,  making  the  instrument  of  my  preservation  so 
young  a  lad  and  slight  a  frame,  I  know  not  how  sufficiently  to 
bless  God,  or  to  thank  my  preserver." 

Mrs.  Hamilton's  hand  closed  convulsively  on  her  husband's ; 
her  eyes  riveted  on  his  countenance  as  if  she  would  grasp  his 
whole  meaning  at  once,  but  little  did  she  guess  the  whole. 

"  I  did  not  come  alone,"  he  added,  striving  for  composure, 
and  even  playfulness,  "  though  it  seems  I  was  such  an  import- 
ant personage,  as  to  be  the  only  one  seen  or  thought  about." 

"  By-the-by,  I  did  see,  or  fancied  I  saw,  Edward,"  rejoined 
Caroline,  who,  at  the  news  of  her  father  having  been  in  dan- 
ger, had  left  the  breakfast-table,  unable  to  keep  away  from 
him,  even  that  short  distance,  but  neither  she,  nor  either  of  the 
others,  connecting  her  cousin  with  Mr.  Hamilton's  words,  and 
not  quite  understanding  why  he  should  have  so  interrupted  the 
most  interesting  subject.  "  He  has  gone  to  see  Ellen,  I  sup- 
pose, and  so  we  have  missed  him.  AVas  he  your  companion, 
papa  ?  How  and  where  did  you  meet  him  ?  " 

"  Let  him  answer  for  himself!  "  replied  Mr.  Hamilton,  still 
detcrminately  hiding  his  feeling  under  a  tone  and  manner  of 
jest,  and  leaving  his  wife's  side  for  a  moment,  he  drew  Edward 
from  the  recess  of  the  window,  where  all  this  time  he  had  been 
standing  quite  unobserved,  and  led  him  forward. 

"  Good  heavens !  Edward,  what  have  you  bee  n  about  ? " 
exclaimed  Miss  Harcourt,  and  her  exclamation  waf  echoed  by 
Caroline  and  Emmeline,  while  Mrs.  Hamilton  gazec  at  him 
in  bewildered  alarm.  He  was  deadly  pale,  with  every  appear- 
ance of  exhaustion,  and  a  most  disfiguring  patch  on  his  lefl 
brow,  which  lie  had  tried  in  vain  to  hide  with  bis  hair. 

"You  have  been  fi>litin£." 


34G  HOME    INFLUENCE. 

"Only  with  the  elements,  Miss  Harcourt,  and  they  ht.vt 
rather  tired  me,  that  is  all;  I  shall  be  well  in  a  day  or  two. 
Don't  look  so  terrified,  dear  aunt,"  he  answered,  with  the  same 
attempt  at  jest  as  his  uncle,  and  throwing  himself  lightly  on  an 
ottoman  by  Mrs.  Hamilton^  he  laid  his  head  very  quietly  on 
her  lap* 

"Fighting — and  with  the  elements?  Arthur,  dearest  Arthur, 
for  pity's  sake  tell  me  the  whole  truth  at  once ;  it  cannot  be  — " 

"And  why  should  it  not,  my  beloved  ?  "  (there  was  no  attempt 
at  jest  now.)  "He  to  whom  your  care  has  preserved  a  sister 

—  whom  your  indulgent  love  has  given  courage  to  resolve  that 
error  shall  be  conquered,  and  he  will  become  all  we  can  wish 
him  —  whom  you  took  to  your  heart  and  home  when  motherless 

—  God  has  mercifully  made  the  instrument  of  saving  your  hus- 
band from  a  watery  grave,  and  giving  back  their  father  to  your 
children ! " 

"  To  be  associated  in  your  heart  with  other  thoughts  than 
those  of  ingratitude,  and  cruelty,  and  sin !  Oh,  aunt  Emmeline, 
I  cannot  thank  God  enough  for  permitting  me  this  great  mercy," 
were  the  only  words  poor  Edward  could  speak,  when  the  first 
intensity  of  his  aunt's  emotion  was  in  some  degree  conquered, 
and  she  could  look  in  his  young  face,  though  her  eyes  were 
almost  blinded  with  tears,  and  putting  back  the  bright  hair 
which  the  rain  and  spray  had  so  uncurled,  as  to  lay  heavy 
and  damp  upon  his  pale  forehead,  she  imprinted  a  long,  silent 
kiss  upon  it,  and  looking  alternately  at  him  and  her  husband, 
seemed  powerless  to  realize  any  other  thought. 

Mr.  Hamilton  briefly,  but  most  eloquently,  narrated  the  events 
of  the  previous  night,  dwelling  only  sufficiently  on  his  imminent 
peril,  to  evince  the  real  importance  of  Edward's  extraordinary 
exertions,  not  to  harrow  the  feelings  of  his  listeners  more  than 
need  be.  That  the  young  officer's  determined  opposition  to  the 
almost  angrily  expressed  opinions  of  Captain  Harvey  and  old 
Collins  as  to  the  better  landing-place,  had  saved  them  from  the 
effects  of  the  huge  wave,  which  had  burst  like  a  water-spout  a 
minute  after  they  had  all  leaped  in  safety  on  shore,  almost  over- 
whelming the  projecting  sand  to  which  Collins  had  wished  to 
direct  the  boat,  and  so  proving  at  once  Edwards's  far  superior 
nautical  knowledge,  for  had  they  steered  there,  the  frail  bark 
must  inevitably  have  been  upset,  and  its  crew  washed  by  the 
receding  torrent  back  to  sea.  Harvey  and  Collins  acknowledged 
their  error  at  once,  and  looked  eagerly  for  Edward  to  say  so  to 
him,  but  he  had  vanished  the  moment  they  had  achieved  &  safe 
landing,  to  Mr.  Hamilton's  annoyance,  for  he  had  not  the  least 


HOME    INFLUENCE.  347 

suspicion  who  he  was,  and  only  longed  to  express,  if  he  could 
not  otherwise  evince  his  gratitude,  Collins  and  Grey  refusing 
the  smallest  credit,  declaring  that  if  it  had  not  been  for  this 
young  stranger  officer,  of  whom  they  knew  nothing,  not  even 
his  name,  not  a  man  would  have  stirred ;  that  for  any  fisherman 
or  mere  ordinary  sailor  to  have  guided  the  boat  to  and  from  the 
sinking  vessel,  in  such  a  sea,  was  so  impossible,  that  no  one 
would  have  attempted  it ;  old  Collins  ending,  with  the  supersti- 
tion of  his  class,  by  a  declaration,  that  his  disappearance  con- 
vinced his  already  more  than  suspicion,  that  it  was  some  good 
angel  in  a  boy's  likeness ;  for  Arthur  Hamilton  would  never 
have  been  permitted  so  to  perish:  an  explanation,  Mr.  Hamil- 
Jon  added,  laughingly,  that  might  suit  his  Emmy,  but  was  rather 
too  fanciful  for  him.  However,  his  young  preserver  was  no- 
where to  be  found,  but,  to  his  extreme  astonishment,  and  no 
little  relief  (for  now  that  he  was  so  near  home,  his  anxiety  to 
hear  of  all,  especially  Ellen,  whom  he  scarcely  dared  hope  to 
tind  alive,  became  insupportable,)  Mr.  Howard  suddenly  stood 
before  him,  grasping  both  his  hands,  without  the  power,  for  a 
minute  or  two,  to  speak.  Mr.  Hamilton  overwhelmed  him  with 
questions,  scarcely  giving  him  time  to  answer  one  before  he 
asked  another.  They  had  nearly  reached  the  hotel,  when  Cap- 
tain Harvey's  bluff  voice  wfas  heard  exclaiming — • 

"  Here  he  is,  Mr.  Hamilton ;  he  is  too  exhausted  to  escape 
our  thanks  and  blessings  now.  What  could  the  youngster  have 
tried  to  hide  himself  for  ?  " 

But  before  Mr.  Hamilton  could  make  any  rejoinder,  save  to 
grasp  the  young  man's  hands  strongly  in  his  own,  Mr.  Howard 
fcaid  eagerly  — 

"Oblige  me,  Captain  Harvey;  take  that  boy  into  our  hotel, 
it  is  only  just  round  the  corner;  make  him  take  off  his  dripping 
jacket,  and  give  him  some  of  your  sailor's  stuff.  He  is  not 
quite  strong  enough  for  his  exertions  to-night,  and  should  rest 
at  once." 

Captain  Harvey  bore  him  off,  almost  carrying  him,  for  exer- 
tion and  a  variety  of  emotions  had  rendered  him  faint  and 
powerless. 

"  Do  you  know  him,  Howard  ?  who  and  what  is  he  ?  "  But 
Mr.  Howard  did  not,  perhaps  could  not  reply,  but  hurried  his 
friand  on  to  the  hotel;  and  entered  the  room,  where,  having 
called  for  lights,  and  all  the  ingredients  of  grog-punch,  which 
he  vowed  the  boy  should  have  instead  of  the  brandy  and  water 
he  had  called  for,  they  found  Edward  trying  to  laugh,  and  pro- 
testing against  all  coddling;  he  was  perfectly  well,  and  he  wo  ild 


848  HOME   INFLUENCE. 

not  go  to  bed,  and  could  not  imagine  what  right  Captain  Har- 
vey had  to  be  a  sailor,  if  he  thought  so  much  of  a  storm,  and  a 
blow,  and  a  wetting. 

"  Nor  should  I,  if  you  were  sailor-rigged ;  but  what  business 
have  you  with  this  overgrown  mast  of  a  figure,  and  a  face  pale 
and  delicate  as  a  woman's  ?  " 

And  so  like  his  dying  mother  it  was,  that  Mr.  Hamilton  stood 
for  a  moment  on  the  threshold,  completely  stupefied.  We  leave 
our  readers  to  imagine  the  rest ;  and  how  Captain  Harvey  car- 
ried the  seemingly  marvellous  news  that  the  brave  young  officer 
was  Mr.  Hamilton's  own  nephew,  over  the  town,  and  in  every 
ii  Sherman's  hut,  in  a  miraculously  short  space  of  time. 

We  may  as  well  state  here  at  once,  to  save  farther  retrospec- 
tion, that  Mr.  Hamilton,  by  the  active  and  admirable  assistance 
of  Morton,  had,  after  a  three  months'  residence  at  Feroc,  per- 
ceived that  he  might  return  to  England  much  sooner  than  he 
had  at  first  anticipated  ;  still  he  did  not  like  to  mention  even  the 
probability  of  such  a  thing  to  his  family,  till  perfectly  certain 
himself.  Morton  never  ceased  persuading  him  to  name  a  pe- 
riod for  his  return,  knowing  the  comfort  it  would.be  to  his  home  ; 
but  Mr.  Hamilton  could  not  bear  the  idea  of  leaving  his  friend 
in  his  voluntary  banishment  so  many  months  sooner  than  they 
had  reckoned  on.  When,  however,  the  letters  came  from  Oak- 
wood,  detailing  Edward's  return,  and  the  discoveries  thence 
proceeding,  his  anxiety  and,  let  it  be  owned,  his  extreme  dis- 
pleasure against  his  nephew,  prompted  his  return  at  once. 
Morton  not  only  conquered  every  objection  to  his  immediate 
departure,  but  tried,  and  in  some  measure  succeeded,  to  soften 
his  anger,  by  bringing  before  him  many  points  in  Mr.  Howard's 
letter,  showing  real,  good,  and  true  repentance  in  the  offender, 
which  a  first  perusal  of  a  narrative  of  error  had  naturally  over- 
looked. The  seas,  however,  were  so  fearfully  tempestuous  and 
the  winds  so  adverse,  that  it  was  impossible  either  to  leave  Fe- 
roe,  or  get  a  letter  conveyed  to  Scotland,  for  a  full  fortnight 
after  the  Siren's  last  voyage.  Nothing  but  the  extreme  urgency 
of  the  case,  increased  by  the  fact  that  the  detention  of  the  Siren 
at  Wick  had  given  Mr.  Hamilton  a  double  packet  of  letters,  but 
the  second,  though  dated  ten  days  later,  gave  the  same  hopeless 
Account  of  Ellen,  could  have  made  him  attempt  a  voyage  home 
in  such  weather;  yet  he  felt  he  could  not  rest,  knowing  intui- 
tively the  misery  his  wife  must  be  enduring,  and  scarcely  able 
to  bear  even  the  thought  of  what  seemed  most  probable,  that 
Kllen  would  be  taken  from  her,  and  the  aggravated  trial  it 
would  be.  The  vovnge  was  :i  terrible  one,  for  length  and 


HOME    INFLUENCE.  34i> 

heavy  gales.  More  than  once  they  wished  to  put  into  port, 
that  Mr.  Hamilton  might  continue  his  journey  by  land,  but  their 
cnly  safety  seemed  keeping  out  at  sea,  the  storm  threatening 
to  dash  them  on  rock  or  shoal,  whenever  in  sight  of  land. 

By  the  time  they  reached  the  Land's  End  —  they  had  come 
westward  of  England,  instead  of  eastward,  as  they  went  —  the 
vessel  was  in  such  a  shattered  and  leaky  condition,  that  Cap- 
tain Harvey  felt  and  acknowledged,  she  could  not  weather  out 
another  storm.  The  calm  that  had  followed  the  heavy  gales, 
gave  hope  to  all ;  even  though  the  constant  shiftings  of  the 
wind,  which  was  now  not  more  than  what,  in  sailor's  parlance 
is  called  a  cat's-paw,  prevented  their  making  as  much  way  as 
they  desired.  At  length  they  were  within  twenty  miles  of 
Dartmouth,  and  not  a  doubt  of  their  safety  disturbed  them,  un- 
til the  darkening  atmosphere,  the  sullen  rise  and  suppressed 
roar  of  the  billows,  the  wind  sobbing  and  wailing  at  first,  and 
then  bursting  into  that  awful  gale,  which  we  have  before  de- 
scribed, banished  every  human  hope  at  once.  The  rudder 
snapped ;  every  half-hour  the  water  gained  upon  the  hold, 
though  every  man  worked  the  pumps.  There  was  not  a  shred 
of  canvas,  but  the  masts,  and  yards,  and  stays  bent  and  snapped 
like  reeds  before  the  blast.  To  guide  her  was  impossible  ;  she 
was  driven  on  —  on  —  till  she  struck  on  a  reef  of  rock  about  a 
mile,  or  less,  perhaps  from  Dartmouth.  Then  came  their  sig- 
nals of  distress,  as  a  last  lone  hope,  for  the  crew  of  the  Siren 
were  all  too  good  seamen  to  dare  believe  a  boat  could  either  be 
pushed  oft',  or  live  in  such  a  sea.  Their  wonder,  their  hope, 
their  intense  thankfulness,  when  it  was  discovered,  may  be 
imagined.  The  rest  is  known. 

"  And  how  did  you  get  this  disfiguring  blow,  my  dear  Ed- 
ward ?  "  inquired  his  aunt,  whose  eyes,  it  seemed,  would  turn 
upon  him,  as  if  impossible  to  connect  that  slight  figure  with 
such  immense  exertions  —  though  some  time  had  passed,  and 
a  social,  happy  breakfast,  round  which  all  still  lingered,  had 
enabled  them  to  subdue  too  painful  emotion,  and  only  to  be 
conscious  of  the  most  deep  and  grateful  joy. 

"  Pray  do  not  call  it  disfiguring,  aunt ;  I  am  quite  proud  of 
it.  Last  night  I  could  have  dispensed  with  such  a  striking 
mark  of  affection  from  the  poor  Siren,  though  I  really  hardly 
felt  it,  except  that  the  blood  would  trickle  in  my  eye,  and  al- 
most blind  me,  when  I  wanted  all  my  sight  and  senses  too. 
But  this  morning  Mr.  Howard  has  made  such  a  kind  fuss  about 
ft,  that  I  think  it  must  be  something  grand." 

"  But  what  did  you  hide  yourself  for,  Ned  ?  "  demanded  Era- 


^50  HOME    INFLUENCE. 

incline,  all  her  high  spirits  recalled.    Her  cousin  hesitated,  and 
a  Hush  mounted  to  his  forehead. 

u  It  was  fear,  Emmeline  ;  absolute  fear ! " 

**  Fear  ! "  she  repeated,  laughing ;  "  of  what  ?  of  all  the 
bogies  and  spirits  of  the  winds  and  waves,  whose  wrath  you 
ilared, .  by  venturing  to  oppose  them  ?  Nonsense,  Edward  ! 
you  will  never  make  me  believe  that." 

"  Because  you  do  not  know  me,"  he  answered,  with  startling 
earnestness.  "  How  can  your  gentle  nature  understand  the  in- 
congruities of  mine  ?  or  loving  your  father  as  you  do,  and  as  he 
deserves,  comprehend  the  dread,  the  belief  in  his  unpitying 
sternness  to  youthful  error,  which  I  imbibed  from  rny  clu'ld- 
hood  ?  He  held  —  he  holds  —  my  fate,  forgiveness  or  expo- 
sure, and  how  could  I  meet  him  calmly  ?  Emmeline,  Emme- 
line, if  I  had  been  but  as  morally  brave  as  I  may  be  physically, 
I  should  have  had  nothing  to  dread,  nothing  to  hide.  As  it  is, 
uncle  Hamilton,  judge,  act,  decide  as  you  would  if  I  had  not 
been  the  undeserved  means  of  saving  you  —  it  will  be  the  best 
for  me  ; "  and,  rising  hurriedly,  he  left  the  room  before  any  one 
could  reply. 

"  But  you  will  forgive  him,  papa;  you  will  try  him  again  ; 
and  I  am  sure  he  will  be  morally  brave,  too,"  pleaded  Emma- 
line  ;  her  sister  and  Miss  Harcourt  joining  in  the  entreaty  and 
belief,  and  Mrs.  Hamilton  looking  in  his  face  without  uttering 
a  word.  Mr.  Hamilton's  answer  seemed  to  satisfy  all  parties. 

Ellen  meanwhile  had  awoke,  quite  refreshed,  and  all  pain 
gone,  been  dressed  and  conveyed  to  her  daily  quarters,  the 
events  of  the  morning  entirely  unknown  to  her;  for  though  the 
joyful  news,  spreading  like  wildfire  through  the  house,  had 
reached  Mrs.  Langford's  ears,  and  made  her  very  happy,  she 
had  quite  judgment  enough,  even  without  a  message  to  that 
effect  from  her  mistress,  to  keep  it  from  Ellen  till  carefully  pre- 
pared. 

"  What  can  I  say  to  my  little  Ellen  for  deserting  her  so 
long  ?  "  inquired  Mrs.  Hamilton,  playfully,  as  she  entered  her 
room,  about  twelve  o'clock,  after  a  long  private  conversation 
with  her  husband. 

"  I  wish  you  would  tell  me  you  had  been  lying  down,  dear 
annt ;  it  would  satisfy  me  better  than  any  other  reason." 

"  Because  you  think  it  would  do  me  the  most  good,  dearest. 
But  took  at  me,  and  tell  me  if  you  do  not  think  I  must  have 
been  trying  some  equally  efficacious  remedy."  Ellen  did  lock 
and  so  radiant  was  that  kind  face  with  happiness,  that  she  v  a.* 
startled. 


HOME    INFLUENCE.  351 

*  Wha  has  happened,  aunt  Emuieline  ?  You  have  heard 
Ironi  my  uncle,"  she  added,  her  voice  trembling.  "  What  does 
he  say  ?  —  will  he  —  " 

"  He  says,  you  must  summon  all  your  smiles  to  greet  him, 
love ;  for  he  hopes  to  be  with  us  very,  very  shortly,  so  you  will 
uot  wonder  at  my  joy  ?  " 

Ellen  tried  to  sympathize  in  it ;  but  Mrs.  Hamilton  soon 
saw  that  her  perhaps  natural  dread  of  what  should  be  her 
uncle's  judgment  on  her  brother  and  herself,  prevented  ali 
pleasurable  anticipation  of  his  arrival,  and  that  the  only  effect- 
ual way  of  removing  it  was  to  let  them  meet  as  soon  as  possi- 
ble. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

FORGIVENESS. 

THREE  days  after  Mr.  Hamilton's  arrival,  a  cheerful  party 
assembled  in  his  wife's  dressing-room,  which,  in  its  elegant  ap- 
purtenances —  signs  as  they  were,  of  a  most  refined  and  beauti- 
ful taste  —  certainly  deserved  a  higher  appellation  ;  but  boudoir, 
Percy  had  always  declared,  did  not  harmonize  at  all  with  the 
old  English  comforts  of  Oakwood,  and  he  would  not  have  a 
French  word  to  designate  his  mother's  room  especially.  Ellen 
was  on  her  sofa,  working  ;  Edward,  who  she  thought  had  only 
returned  that  morning,  at  her  side,  reading ;  Caroline  and  Em- 
tneline,  drawing,  the  one  with  some  degree  of  perseverance,  the 
other  with  none  at  all.  It  seemed  as  if  she  could  not  sit  still, 
and  her  wild  sallies,  and  snatches  of  old  songs,  repeatedly  made 
Miss  Harcourt  look  up  from  her  book,  and  Mrs.  Hamilton  from 
her  work,  surprised. 

"  Emmeline,  I  cannot  draw,"  exclaimed  Caroline,  at  length  , 
"  you  are  making  the  table  as  restless  as  yourself." 

':  Why  can  you  not  say  it  was  moved  by  an  irresistible  sym- 
pathy ?  It  is  most  extraordinary  that  you  will  still  speak  plain 
matter-of-fact,  when  I  am  doing  all  I  can  to  make  yo  i  poetical." 

"  But  what  am  I  to  poetize  on  now,  Emmeline  ?  —  the  table, 
or  yourself?  because,  at  present,  they  are  the  only  subjects 
under  consideration,  and  I  really  cannot  see  any  thing  very 
poetical  in  eiJher." 

"  Not  even  in  me,  Lina  ?  "  archly  replied  Emmeli  ae,  bending 


5o2  HOME   INFLUENCE. 

down  so  that  her  face  should  come  before  her  sister,  instead  of 
her  copy,  which  was  a  very  pretty,  small  marble  figure.  "  Now 
if  you  were  not  the  most  determined  piece  of  prose  in  the  vvorld. 
you  would  find  poetry  even  in  my  face. 

"For,  lo!  the  artist  no  more  gazed 

On  features  still  and  cold; 
He  stood,  be  wilder' d  and  amazed, 
As  living  charms  unfold. 

"As  if  touch'd  bv  yon  orient  ray, 
The  stone  to  life  had  warm'd; 
For  round  the  lip  such  bright  smiles  play, 
As  never  sculptor  forrn'd. 

There,  Caroline,  that  is  what  you  ought  to  have  felt.  If  I  can 
make  poetry  on  my  face  —  " 

"  Poetry  on  yourself!  Why,  Emmeline,  I  thought  you  were 
repeating  a  verse  of  some  old  poet,  with  which  I  arn  unac- 
quainted. I  really  beg  your  pardon.  I  did  not  know  your 
favorite  Muse  had  dubbed  you  follower  as  well  as  worshipper." 

"Nor  did  I  till  this  moment.  She  feared  for  her  reputation 
near  such  a  lover  of  prose  as  you  are,  and  so  touched  me  with 
inspiration.  I  am  exceedingly  obliged  to  her ;  but  even  if  I 
failed  to  make  you  poetical,  Caroline,  you  might  have  emulated 
Cowper,  and  instead  of  singing  the  '  Sofa,'  sung  the  '  Table.' 
Indeed  I  think  a  very  pretty  poem  might  be  made  of  it.  Look 
at  the  variety  of  tasteful  and  useful  things  laid  on  a  table  — 
and  there  it  stands  in  the  midst  of  them,  immovable,  cold,  in- 
sensible, just  like  one  on  whom  we  heap  favors  upon  favors, 
and  who  remains  so  wrapped  in  self,  as  to  be  utterly  indifferent 
to  all.  Now,  Caroline,  put  that  into  rhyme,  or  blank  verse,  if 
you  prefer  it ;  it  is  a  new  idea,  at  least." 

"  So  new,"  replied  her  sister,  laughing,  "  that  I  think  I  will 
send  it  to  Percy,  and  request  him  to  turn  it  into  a  Greek  or 
Latin  ode  ;  it  will  be  so  much  grander  than  my  English  version. 
You  have  so  astonished  mamma,  Emmeline,  by  your  mad  mood, 
that  she  has  actually  put  down  her  work." 

"  I  am  so  glad  !  "  replied  Emmeline,  springing  to  her  mother's 
aide ;  "  I  like  other  people  to  be  as  idle  as  myself." 

"  But  there  is  a  medium  in  all  things,  young  lady,"  answered 
her  mother,  half-gravely,  half  in  Einmeline's  own  tone  ;  "  and 
I  rather  think  your  conscience  is  telling  you,  that  it  is  not 
quite  right  to  desert  one  Muse  for  another,  as  you  are  doing 
now." 

"Oh,  but  my  drawing  must   wail   (ill  her  Mnse  inspires  n.< 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  358 

again.     Poetry  does   not  always   come,  and  her  visits  are  so 
delightful !  " 

"  Then  I  am  afraid  you  will  think  me  very  harsh,  Emme^ 
line  ;  but  delightful  as  they  are,  I  must  not  have  them  always 
encouraged.  If  you  encourage  the  idea  of  only  working  when 
the  fit  of  inspiration  comes  upon  you  —  in  plain  words,  only 
when  you  feel  inclined  —  you  will  fritter  life  away  without  one 
solid  thought  or  acquirement.  You  think  now,  perhaps,  habit- 
uated as  you  are  to  employment,  that  this  is  impossible ;  but 
you  are  just  of  an  age  to  demand  very  strict  watchfulness  over 
yourself  to  prevent  it.  Now  that  you  are  emerging  from  the 
routine  of  childhood's  lessons,  and  too  old  to  be  compelled  to  do 
.hat  which  is  right,  and  —  rendering  your  task  of  control  more 
difficult  —  more  susceptible  to  poetry,  and  what  you  term  in- 
spiration, than  ever,  you  must  try  and  infuse  a  little  of  Caro- 
line's steady,  matter-of-fact  into  your  poetry,  instead  of  almost 
despising  it,  as  so  cold  and  disagreeable.  Now,  do  not  look  so 
very  sad,  and  so  very  serious,  love,  and  jump  at  the  conclusion 
that  I  am  displeased,  because  I  speak  seriously.  I  love  your 
joyousness  far  too  dearly  to  check  it,  or  Avish  you  to  do  so,  es- 
pecially in  your  own  family ;  but  just  as  you  have  learned  the 
necessity  of,  and  evinced  so  well  and  so  feelingly,  control  in 
emotions  of  sorrow,  my  Emmeline,  so  I  am  quite  sure  you  will 
trust  my  experience,  and  practise  control,  even  in  the  pleasant 
inspiration  of  poetry  and  joy/' 

Emmeline  sat  very  quiet  for  several  minutes ,  she  was  just  in 
that  mood  of  extreme  hilarity  which  renders  control  excessively 
difficult,  and  causes  the  last  check  upon  it  to  be  felt  as  harsh 
and  unkind,  and  almost  to  bring  tears.  She  was  not  too  perfect 
to  escape  from  feeling  all  this,  even  though  the  person  who  had 
caused  it  was  the  mother  she  so  dearly  loved ;  but  she  did  not 
give  way  to  it.  A  few  minutes'  hard  struggle,  and  the  mo- 
mentary temper  was  so  conquered,  that,  with  an  even  more 
than  usually  warm  kiss,  she  promised  to  think  quite  seriously 
on  all  her  mother  said;  and,  an  effort  far  more  difficult,  was 
just  as  joyous  as  before. 

"  I  have  made  so  many  mistakes  in  my  drawing,  mamma,  I 
really  do  not  think  I  can  go  on  with  it  to-day ;  do  let  me  help 
you,  I  will  take  such  pains  with  my  work,  it  shall  be  almost  a» 
neat  as  yours ;  and  then,  though  my  fingers  are  employed,  ai 
least  I  may  go  on  talking." 

Mrs.  Hamilton  assented,  telling  her  she  might  talk  as  much 
as  she  pleased,  with  one  of  those  peculiar  smiles  of  approval 
which  ever  made  Emmeline's  heart  throb,  for  they  always  told 


554  HOME    INFLUENCE. 

her,  that  the  thoughts  and  feelings,  and  secret  struggle  with 
temper,  which  she  imagined  must  be  known  only  to  herself, 
her  mother  by  some  mysterious  power  had  discovered,  and  re- 
warded. 

"Edward  what  are  you  so  deep  in?  —  'Fragments  cf  Voy- 
ages and  Travels '  —  I  thought  it  was  something  much  deepei 
than  that  by  the  deep  attention  you  are  giving  it.  You  should 
dip  in  oceans,  not  in  fragments  of  water,  Ned." 

"I  did  not  feel  inclined  for  the  exertion,"  he  replied,  smiling. 

"  Do  you  know,"  she  continued,  "  when  I  first  read  that  book, 
which  I  did  merely  because  I  had  a  lurking  sort  of  affection  for 
a  handsome  cousin  of  mine  who  was  a  sailor,  I  was  so  charmed 
with  the  tricks  you  all  played  in  the  cockpit,  that  I  was  seized 
with  a  violent  desire  to  don  a  middy's  dress,  and  come  after 
you ;  it  would  have  made  such  a  pretty  story,  too ;  but  I  did 
not  think  mamma  and  papa  would  quite  approve  of  it,  so  I  de- 
sisted. Should  I  not  make  a  very  handsome  boy,  Edward?" 

"  So  handsome,"  he  replied,  again  smiling,  "  that  I  fear  you 
would  not  have  preserved  your  incognita  half  an  hour,  espe- 
cially with  those  flowing  curls." 

"  My  dear  Emmeline,  do  tell  me,  what  has  made  you  in  this 
mood?"  asked  Ellen;  "last  week  you  were  so  sad,  and  the  last 
three  days  you  have  been  —  " 

"  Wild  enough  to  frighten  you,  Ellen ;  ah,  if  you  did  but 
know  the  reason." 

"You  had  better  satisfy  her  curiosity,  Emmy,"  said  Mrs. 
Hamilton,  so  meaningly,  that  Emmeline's  ready  mind  instantly 
understood  her.  "Tell  her  all  that  did  occur  in  that  awful 
storm  three  days  ago,  as  poetically  and  lengthily  as  you  like ; 
no  one  shall  interrupt  you,  if  you  will  only  be  very  careful  not 
to  exaggerate  or  alarm." 

Edward  gave  up  his  seat  to  his  cousin,  and  Emmeline  launch 
ed  at  once  into  a  most  animated  description  of  the  storm  and 
/he  shipwreck,  and  the  rescue ;  cleverly  contriving  so  to  hide 
all  names,  as  to  elude  the  least  suspicion  of  either  the  preserved 
or  the  preserver  having  any  thing  to  do  with  herself,  Ellen  be- 
coming so  exceedingly  interested,  as  to  lose  sight  of  the  ques- 
tion which  at  first  had  struck  her,  what  this  could  have  to  do 
with  Emmeline's  wild  spirits. 

"  You  do  not  mean  to  say  it  was  his  own  father  he  saved?' 
Bhe  said,  as  her  cousin  paused  a  minute  to  take  breath;  "youi 
tale  is  becoming  so  like  a  romance,  Emmy,  I  hardly  know  how 
k'  believe  it." 

"I  assure  you  it  is  quite  true;  only  imagine  what  my  young 


HOME    INFLUENCE.  3i)i> 

hero's  feelings  must  Lave  been,  and  those  of  the  family,  to  whom 
he  gave  back  a  husband  and  a  father ! " 

"I  should  think  them  so  intense,  so  sacred,  as  to  be  tardly 
joy  at  first,  and  scarcely  possible  to  be  imagined,  even  by  your 
vivid  fancy,  Emmy." 

"I  don't  know,  Ellen,  but  I  think  I  can  imagine  then:  ;  you 
may  shake  your  head,  and  look  wise,  but  I  will  prove  that  I 
can  by-and-by.  But  what  do  you  think  of  my  hei'o  ?  " 

"  That  I  should  like  to  know  him,  and  admire  him  quite  as 
much  as  you  can  desire  —  and  who  told  you  all  this  ?  " 

"  One  of  the  principal  actors  in  the  scene  ?  " 

"What,  has  jour  penchant  for  any  thing  out  of  the  common 
way  reached  Dartmouth,  and  old  Collins  brought  you  the  tale  ?  " 

"No,"  replied  Emmeline,  laughing;  "guess  again." 

"William  Grey?" 

"  No." 

"One  of  the  rescued  crew  who  may  know  my  aunt?" 

"  Wrong  again,  Ellen," 

"  Then  I  cannot  guess,  Emmeline  ;   so  pray  tell  me." 

"You  are  very  silly,  Ellen;  were  not  Mr.  Howard  and  Ed- 
ward both  at  Dartmouth  at  the  time  ?  why  did  you  not  guess 
them  ?  Not  that  I  had  it  from  either." 

"  Edward  !  "  repeated  Ellen,  "  did  he  know  any  thing  about 
it  ?  " 

"  More  than  any  one  else,  deai-est,"  answered  Mrs.  Hamilton, 
cautiously,  but  fondly ;  "  put  all  Emmeline's  strange  tale  together, 
and  connect  it  with  my  happiness  the  other  morning,  and  I  think 
your  own  heart  will  explain  the  rest." 

"  More  especially  with  this  speaking  witness,"  continued  Em- 
meline, playfully  putting  back  Edward's  hair,  that  Ellen  might 
see  the  scar.  She  understood  it  in  a  moment,  and  clasping  her 
arms  round  her  brothei-'s  neck,  as  he  knelt  by  her,  tried  hard  to 
prevent  emotion,  but  could  not,  and  burst  into  tears. 

"'  Tears,  my  little  Ellen  ;  I  said  I  would  only  be  greeted  with 
smiles,"  exclaimed  a  rich,  deep  voice,  close  beside  her,  and  be- 
fore she  had  time  to  fear  his  presence,  she  felt  herself  clasped 
with  all  a  father's  fondness  in  her  uncle's  arms  ;  her  head  res:- 
mg  on  his  shoulder,  and  his  warm  kiss  on  her  cheek. 

"  Edward ! "  was  the  only  word  she  could  speak. 

"  Do  not  fear  for  him,  my  dear  Ellen ;  true  repentance  and 
a  firm  resolution  to  amend  are  all  I  ask,  and  if  his  future  con- 
duct really  prove  them,  the  errors  of  his  youth  shall  be  forgot- 
ten, as  if  they  had  never  been." 

"And  —  and  — " 


556  HOME    INFLUENCE. 

"  I  know  all  you  would  say,  my  dear  child.  I  did  think  there 
could  be  no  excuse,  no  palliation,  for  your  sin ;  but  even  if  I 
still  wish  the  temptation  had  been  resisted,  you  have  indeed 
suffered  for  it,  more  than  the  harshest  judgment  could  desire ; 
let  it  be  forgotten  as  entirely  and  as  fully  as  it  is  forgiven." 

In  a  very  few  minutes  Ellen's  composure  was  so  fully  restored, 
and  her  heavy  dread  so  subsided,  that  the  relief  seemed  to  her 
almost  a  dream.  Could  it  be  possible  that  it  was  the  relative 
she  had  pictured  as  so  harsh  and  stern,  and  pitiless  to  youthful 
error,  who  had  drawn  a  chair  close  by  her  sofa,  and  caressingly 
holding  her  hand  in  his,  and  looking  so  kindly,  so  earnestly,  in 
her  altered  face,  was  trying  to  amuse  her  by  telling  her  so 
many  entertaining  things  about  Feroe  and  Mr.  Morton,  and 
his  voyage  home,  and  alluding  to  her  brother's  courage,  and 
prudence,  and  skill,  in  such  terms  as  almost  brought  the  tears 
again  ?  Mr.  Hamilton  was  inexpressibly  shocked  at  the  change 
which  mental  and  bodily  suffering  had  wrought  in  his  niece. 
There  is  always  something  peculiarly  touching,  and  appealing 
to  the  best  emotions,  in  youthful  sorrow  or  suffering  of  any 
kind ;  and  her  trial  had  been  such  an  aggravated  one  —  com- 
bining such  agonized  remorse,  for  an  act,  which  the  harshest 
judgment,  knowing  all  points  of  the  case,  could  scarcely  pro- 
nounce as  other  than  involuntary,  with  the  most  heroic,  but 
perfectly  unconscious  self-sacrifice,  and  not  only  terror  for  her 
brother's  fate,  but  an  almost  crushing  sense  of  misery  for  his 
faults,  that  the  pallid  face,  and  frame  so  delicately  fragile,  had 
still  deeper  claims  for  sympathy  and  cherishing  than  even  when 
caused  by  ordinary  illness.  The  loss  of  her  unusually  luxuriant 
hair,  except  the  soft  bands  which  shaded  her  face,  visible  under 
the  pretty  little  lace  cap,  made  her  look  much  younger  than  she 
really  was,  and  so  delicately  transparent  had  become  her  com- 
plexion, that  the  blue  veins  were  clearly  traceable  on  her  fore- 
head, and  throat,  and  hands ;  the  dark,  soft  lash  seemed  longer 
than  before,  as  it  swept  the  pale  cheek,  the  brow  more  pencilled, 
and  the  eye,  whether  in  imagination,  from  her  friends  knowing 
all  she  had  endured,  or  in  reality,  was  so  expressive  of  such 
deep,  quiet  feeling,  that  the  whole  countenance  was  so  altered 
and  so  improved,  that  it  seemed  as  if  the  heavy,  sallow  child 
was  rapidly  changing  into  one  of  those  sweet,  lovable,  heart- 
attracting  girls,  who,  without  any  actual  beauty,  can  never  be 
passed  unnoticed. 

At  Ellen  s  request,  Mrs.  Hamilton  had,  as  soon  as  she  wa« 
strong  enough,  rend  with  her,  morning  and  evening,  the  devo- 
tional exercises  which  were  re-ad  bc'ow  to  the  assembled  family 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  367 

Mrs.  Hamilton  soon  perceived,  and  with  no  little  pain,  that 
Kll^n  shrunk  from  the  idea  of  being  well  enough  to  rejoin  them, 
in  actual  suffering.  Here  again  was  an  effect  of  that  same 
vivid  imagination,  of  whose  existence,  until  the  late  events,  in 
one  so  quiet,  seemingly  so  cold,  Mrs.  Hamilton  had  not  the 
least  idea  of.  Ellen  had  been  so  long  accustomed  to  be  silent 
as  to  her  feelings  in  fact  carefully  to  conceal  them,  that  much 
as  she  might  wish  and  intend  to  be  unreserved,  her  aunt  feared 
it  would  cause  her  some  difficulty  to  be  so,  and  she  could  not 
hope  to  succeed  in  controlling  imagination,  unless  she  were. 
That  night,  however,  Ellen's  unreserved  confidence  gave  her 
hope.  When  the  devotional  exercises,  in  which  she  had  joined 
with  even  more  than  usual  earnestness  and  fervor,  were  con- 
cluded, she  said,  with  almost  Emmeline's  confidence,  as  she 
laid  her  hand  on  her  aunt's  — 

"  I  am  so  very,  very  happy  to-night,  dear  aunt,  that  I  am 
afraid  I  do  not  think  enough  of  what  is  past.  I  did  so  dread 
my  uncle's  return  —  so  tremble  at  what  his  sentence  would  be 
on  Edward  and  myself,  that  even  your  kindness  would  not  re- 
move the  weight ;  and  now,  that^t  have  found  it  all  so  ground- 
less, and  he  is  so  kind  —  so  indulgent,  I  am  so  relieved,  that  I 
fear  I  must  have  thought  more  of  his  anger  than  the  anger  of 
God.  My  sin  remains  the  same  in  His  sight,  though  you  and 
uncle  Hamilton  have  so  fully  forgiven  it,  and  —  and  —  I  do  not 
think  I  ought  to  feel  so  happy." 

"  Indeed,  my  dear  Ellen,  I  think  you  may.  Our  Heavenly 
Father  is  still  more  merciful  than  man,  as  Mr.  Howard  so 
clearly  proved  to  you,  in  the  long  conversation  you  had  with 
him.  AV^e  know,  by  his  Holy  Word,  that  all  he  asks  is  sincere 
repentance  for  sin,  and  a  firm  conviction  that  in  Him  only  we 
are  made  sufficiently  righteous  for  our  penitence  to  be  accepted. 
I  believe,  Ellen,  that  His  forgiveness  was  yours,  long  before  1 
could  give  you  mine,  for  He  could  read  your  heart,  and  saw 
the  reason  of  your  silence,  and  all  the  remorse  and  suffering, 
which,  from  the  appearances,  against  you,  I  might  not  even 
guess ;  and  that,  in  His  compassionating  love  and  pity,  lie  per- 
mitted your  increased  trial ;  ordaining  even  the  failure  of  the 
relief  to  Edward,  to  convince  you,  that,  not  even  in  such  a 
fearful  case  as  yours,  might  error,  however  involuntary,  pros- 
per. I  can  trace  His  loving  providence  even  in  the  fact  of 
your  finding  one  more  note  than  you  wanted,  that  discovery 
might  thence  come,  which,  without  such  a  seeming  chance,  was, 
humanly  speaking,  impossible.  He  has  shown  compassion  and 
love  for  you  and  Edward,  in  the  very  sufferings  He  oidainei 


5-')8  HOME   INFLUENCE. 

So  do  not  check  your  returning  happiness,  fearing  it  must  be 
unacceptable  to  Him.  Try  to  trace  all  things,  either  of  joy  or 
sorrow,  to  Him.  Associate  Him  with  your  every  thought,  and 
believe  me,  my  own  Ellen,  your  very  happiness  will  both  draw 
you  nearer  to  Him,  and  be  an  acceptable  offering  in  his  sight." 

Ellen  listened  eagerly,  gratefully  ;  she  felt  as  if,  with  every 
word  Mrs.  Hamilton  said,  the  film  of  doubt  and  vague  fancies 
was  dissolving  from  her  mind,  and,  after  a  short  pause,  she 
(•aid  — 

"  Then  you  do  not  think,  aunt  Emmeline,  my  inability  to 
pray  for  so  long  a  time,  was  a  proof  that  God  had  utterly  for- 
saken me  ?  It  made  me  still  more  wretched,  for  I  thought  it 
was  a  sure  sign  that  I  was  so  irredeemably  wicked,  He  had 
left  me  to  the  devices  of  my  own  heart,  and  would  never  love 
or  have  mercy  on  me  again.  Even  after  you  had  quite  for- 
given me,  and  proved  to  me  my  promise  was  a  mistaken  one 
and  not  binding,  I  still  felt  the  difficulty  to  pray,  and  it  was  so 
painful." 

Such  inability  is  very  often  so  entirely  physical,  my  dear 
Ellen,  that  we  must  not  think*too  much  about  it.  Our  simple 
duty  is  to  persevere,  however  little  satisfactory  our  devotions ; 
and  put  our  firm  trust  in  our  heavenly  Father,  that  He  will 
heal  us,  and  permit  His  countenance  so  to  shine  upon  us  again, 
as  to  derive  comfort  from  our  prayers.  Your  inability  before 
your  illness  was  the  natural  consequence  of  Mr.  Howard's 
severe  representations,  which  he  has  since  assured  me,  he  never 
would  have  used,  if  he  could  have  had  the  least  idea  of  the 
cause  of  your  silence.  You,  my  poor  child,  were  suffering  too 
much,  from  a  complete  chaos  of  conflicting  feelings  and  duties, 
to  be  able  to  realize  this,  and  I  am  not  at  all  astonished,  that 
when  you  most  yeai-ned  for  the  comfort  of  prayer  and  trust,  the 
thought  that  by  your  silence  you  were  failing  in  your  duty  to 
me  and  so  disobeying  God,  should  utterly  have  prevented  it. 
Since  your  severe  illness  the  inability  has  been  entirely  physi- 
cal. As  strength  and  peace  return,  you  will  regain  the  power, 
and  realize  all  its  comfort.  Try,  and  under  all  feelings  trust  in 
and  love  God,  and  do  not  be  too  much  elated,  when  you  can 
think  seriously  and  pray  joyfully,  nor  too  desponding  when  both 
fail  you.  In  our  present  state,  physical  causes  alone,  so  often 
occasion  these  differences  of  feeling  in  hours  of  devotion,  that 
if  we  thought  too  much  about  them,  we  should  constantly  think 
wrong,  and  be  very  miserable.  Try  and  prove  your  desire  tc 
love  and  serve  God.  in  your  daily  conduct  and  secret  thoughts 
ray  Ellen,  and  you  will  be  able  to  judge  of  your  spiritual  im 


HOME  INFLUENCE.  359 

prnvement  by  action  and  feeling,  far  more  truly  and  justly  than 
by  the  mood  in  which  you  pray." 

The  earnestness  of  truth  and  feeling  was  always  so  impressed 
on  Mrs.  Hamilton's  manner,  whenever  she  addressed  her  youth- 
ful charge,  that  her  simplest  word  had  weight.  Happy  indeed 
is  it  when  youth  —  that  season  of  bewildering  doubt  and  ques- 
tion, and  vivid,  often  mistaken  fancies,  and  too  impetuous  feel- 
ing —  has  the  rich  blessing  of  such  affectionate  counsels,  such  a 
friend.  Why  will  not  woman  rise  superior  to  the  petty  em- 
ployments and  feelings  too  often  alone  attributed  to  her,  and 
endeavor  to  fit  herself  for  such  a  thrice  blessed  mission;  and 
by  sympathy  with  young  enjoyments  —  young  hopes — young 
feelings,  so  attract  young  affections,  that  similar  counsels,  simi- 
lar experiences,  may  so  help  and  guide,  that  the  restless  mind 
and  eager  heart  quiesce  into  all  the  calm,  deep,  beautiful  cha- 
racteristics, which  so  shine  forth  in  the  true  English  wife  —  the 
true  English  mother! 

A  fortnight  after  Mr.  Hamilton's  arrival,  Ellen  was  well 
enough  to  go  down  stairs  for  part,  of  the  day,  and  even  to  read 
and  write  a  little.  She  was  so  very  anxious  to  recommence  her 
studies,  which  for  many  months  had  been  so  painfully  neglected, 
that  it  was  a  great  trial  to  her,  to  find  her  head  was  not  yet 
strong  enough  for  the  necessary  application.  There  were 
many,  very  many  privations  and  trials,  attendant  on  convales- 
cence after  so  severe  an  illness,  known  only  to  Ellen's  own 
heart,  and  to  her  aunt's  quick  sympathy ;  and  she  very  quickly 
learned  in  them  the  meaning  of  Mrs.  Hamilton's  words  regard- 
ing religion  in  conduct  and  feeling,  as  well  as  in  prayer.  She 
tried  never  to  murmur,  or  dwell  on  the  wish  for  pleasures  which 
were  denied  her,  but  to  think  only  on  the  many  blessings  which 
surrounded  her.  It  was  not  an  easy  task  so  to  conquer  natural 
feeling,  especially  as  the  trial  and  its  conquest  was  often  known 
only  to  herself;  but  the  earnest  wish,  indeed,  to  become  holy 
in  daily  conduct,  as  well  as  in  daily  prayer,  never  left  her  mind, 
and  so  enabled  her  at  length  fully  to  obtain  it. 

If  Mrs.  Hamilton  had  wanted  evidence  of  her  husband's  pub- 
lic as  well  as  domestic  worth,  she  would  have  had  it  fully  now. 
His  danger  and  his  preservation  once  known,  letters  of  regard 
and  congratulation  poured  upon  him,  and  Montrose  Grahame 
made  a  journey  down  to  Oakwood  expressly  to  welcome  back, 
and  express  his  individual  gratitude  for  his  friend's  safety  to 
his  youthful  preserver.  But  Edward  so  shrunk  from  praise  or 
admiration,  that  his  uncle,  rejoicing  at  the  feeling,  would  not 
pi  ess  him,  as  he  had  first  intended,  to  accompany  him  to  Ox 


•>60  HOME  INFLUENCE. 

ford,  where  he  went  to  see  his  sons.  Percy  rated  him  soundly 
in  a  letter  for  not  coming.  Herbert  seemed,  as  if  he  could 
only  think  of  his  father's  danger,  and  thank  God  for  his  safety, 
and  for  permitting  Edward  to  be  the  means.  So  great  was  the 
desire  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hamilton  to  re-assemble  all  their  happy 
family  once  more,  before  Edward  left  them,  that  the  young  men 
made  an  exception  to  their  general  rule,  and  promised  to  spend 
Easter  week  at  home.  It  was  early  in  March,  and  anticipated 
by  the  home  party  with  the  greatest  delight. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE    HIGH    AND    THE    POOK. 

"  WE  have  had  such  a  delightful  excursion,  mamma.  Elltn, 
how  I  do  wish  you  could  have  been  with  us ! "  joyously  ex- 
claimed Emmeline,  as  she  ran  into  the  usual  sitting-room,  one 
of  those  lovely  afternoons,  that  the  first  days  of  March  so  often 
bring,  promising  spring  long  before  she  really  comes.  "  It  is 
such  a  picturesque  cottage,  and  Dame  Collins,  and  Susan,  and 
a  host  of  little  ones,  look  so  nice,  and  so  clean,  and  so  pretty, 
and  happy ;  it  does  one's  heart  good  to  look  at  them." 

"Are  you  sure  you  cannot  find  another  adjective  to  apply  to 
them,  Emmy?  You  have  heaped  so  many  together,  that  it  is 
a  pity  you  cannot  find  a  few  more." 

"  But  they  really  do  look  so  comfortable,  and  are  so  grateful 
for  all  you  and  papa  have  done  for  them:  Emmeline's  descrip- 
tion for  once,  is  not  too  flowing,"  rejoined  the  quieter  Caroline, 
who  had  followed  her  sister  into  the  room. 

"And  were  they  pleased  with  your  visit?  "  asked  Ellen. 

"  Oh,  delighted !  particularly  at  our  making  their  pretty  littlo 
parlor  our  dining-room,  and  remaining  so  long  with  them,  that 
they  could  show  us  all  their  comforts  and  conveniences,  with- 
out any  bustle." 

"Mrs.  Collinses  really  a  sensible  woman.  Do  you  not  think 
so,  mamma?"  inquired  Caroline. 

"Yes,  my  dear.  She  has  brought  up  her  own  large  family 
and  her  poor  orphan  grandchildren  so  admirably,  in  the  midst 
of  their  extreme  poverty,  and  bears  such  a  name  for  kindness1 
among  her  still  poorer  neighbors,  that  I  truly  respeci  and  ad 


HOME    INFLUENCE.  363 

mire  her.  She  is  quite  one  of  those  in  whom  I  have  often  told 
you  sc  me  of  the  very  loftiest  virtues  are  to  be  found ;  and  yet 
to  see  her,  as  she  trudges  about  in  her  homely,  humble  fashion, 
never  dreaming  she  is  doing  or  has  done  any  thing  remarkable 
in  her  hard-working  life,  who  would  suspect  it  ?  " 

"Only  look,  Ellen,  how  beautifully  our  collection  will  be 
increased,"  continued  Emmeline,  who  just  at  that  moment  was 
only  alive  to  pleasure,  not  to  contemplation,  even  of  goodness, 
in  which  she  much  delighted,  and  pouring  into  her  cousin's  lap 
a  basket  of  beautiful  shells  and  other  marine  treasures.  "  Papa 
has  just  given  us  a  new  cabinet  in  time,  though  he  only  thought 
of  it  as  a  place  for  his  Faroe  curiosities.  To  think  of  his 
remembering  our  tastes  even  there ! " 

"  But  where  did  you  get  these  from  ?  " 

"Why,  the  children  were  playing  with  some,  which  were  so 
pei'fect,  I  could  not  help  admiring  them,  and  Mrs.  Collins  was 
in  a  bustle  of  pleasure  that  I  liked  any  thing  so  trifling,  because 
she  could  gratify  me,  and  she  made  me  take  all  these,  adding, 
that  her  good  man  would  be  sure  to  look  out  for  some  more  for 
us ;  for  when  I  told  her  they  not  only  pleased  me,  but  my  poor 
invalid  cousin,  who  was  Edward's  sister,  you  should  have  seen 
how  her  eyes  sparkled." 

"  Oh,  you  have  quite  won  the  dame's  heart,  Emmy  !  "  said 
Miss  Harcourt.  "  What  with  talking  to  her,  and  to  Susan,  and 
playing  with  every  one  of  the  children,  and  making  them  tell 
you  all  their  plays  and  their  schooling,  and  then  gathering  you 
a  nosegay,  telling  them  it  should  adorn  your  room  at  home ! " 

"And  so  it  shall,"  gayly  interrupted  Emmeline  ;  "  I  desired 
Robert  to  put  them  in  water  directly,  for  they  were  very  pretty, 
and  I  like  them  better  than  the  best  bouquet  from  our  green- 
house." 

"  I  do  not  quite  agree  with  you,  Emmeline,"  said  Caroline, 
smiling. 

"  Not  you,  Lina,  who  ever  thought  you  would  ?  by-the-by,  ] 
never  saw  you  so  agreeable  and  natural  in  a  poor  man's  cottage 
in  my  life.  What  were  you  saying  to  Dame  Collins  ?  "  actually 
holding  her  hand,  and  something  very  bright  shining  in  your 
eye." 

"  Dear  Emmy,  do  not  run  on  so,"  whispered  Ellen,  as  she 
noticed  Caroline's  cheek  crimsor.  Emmeline  was  at  her  side 
in  a  moment,  with  an  arm  round  her  neck. 

"•  Caroline,  dear,  forgive  me.  I  did  not  mean  to  tease  you ; 
only  it  was  unusual,  was  it  not?" 

"  I  was  trying  to  tell  Mrs.  Collins  all  I  thought  of  her  hus- 


362  HOME   INFLUENCE. 

band's  share  in  saving  our  dear  father,  Emmy.     I  forgot  all  of 
folly  and  pride  then." 

"  You  are  very  seldom  proud  now,  dearest  Lina,  and  I  wa^ 
the  foolish  one  not  to  have  guessed  what  you  were  saying,  with 
out  tormenting  you.  Mamma,  do  you  know  I  have  such  an 
admirable  plan  in  my  head  ?  " 

"  First  tell  mamma,"  interrupted  Caroline,  "  that  William 
Grey  has  chosen  to  be  a  partner  with  Collins  in  the  more 
extended  fishing  and  boating  business,  which  papa  has  secured 
them,  instead  of  entering  into  business  by  himself;  this  has 
been  settled  since  you  were  there,  I  think." 

"  Yes,  my  dear,  I  did  not  know  it ;  but  Mrs.  Collins  must 
like  it,  for  she  regretted  very  much  that  her  sons  were  all  scat- 
tered in  different  trades,  and  her  little  grandson,  whose  taste 
pointed  to  the  sea,  was  not  old  enough  to  go  out  with  his  grand- 
father." 

"  But  only  listen  to  my  plan,  mamma,  dear !  William  Grey 
and  Susan  Collins  cannot  possibly  see  much  of  each  other, 
without  falling  in  love ;  and  they  will  make  such  an  industrious, 
pretty  couple,  and  papa  will  give  them  a  cottage  to  themselves, 
and  I  will  go  to  their  wedding ! " 

"Just  such  a  plan  as  I  should  expect  from  your  giddy  brain, 
Emmy.  But  how  do  you  know  that  Grey  has  any  desire  for 
a  wife  ?  " 

"  Oh,  because  Edward  said  he  could  not  help  remarking, 
even  in  the  midst  of  that  awful  scene,  how  mournfully  he  said 
he  would  bear  a  hand,  for  he  had  neither  mother,  sister,  nor 
wife  to  pipe  for  him ;  now,  if  he  married  Susan,  he  would  have 
a  very  pretty  wife  to  lament  him." 

"  Poor  Susan,  I  fancy  she  would  rather  not  become  his  wife, 
if  it  be  only  to  mourn  for  him,  Emmy ;  rather  a  novel  reason 
for  a  marriage,  certainly." 

"  Oh,  but  mamma,  dear !  you  know  that  I  don't  mean  exactly 
and  only  that ;  somebody  to  be  interested  for,  and  love  him. 
No  one  can  be  happy  without  that." 

"  Susan  was  telling  me,  mamma,  how  thankful  she  is  to  you, 
for  finding  her  and  her  sister  employment,  that  they  might  bo 
able  to  help  the  family,"  rejoined  Caroline.  "I  was  quite 
pleased  with  her  mantier  of  speaking,  and  she  blushed  so  pret- 
tily when  Miss  Harcourt  praised  the  extreme  neatness  of  hei 
work." 

"Ah,  mamma,  if  you  could  but  hear  all  they  say  of  you  ! ' 
again  burst  forth  Emmeline,  who  it  seemed  could  not  be  quiet. 
going  from  one  subject  to  another  with  the  same  eager  zest 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  ou.'i 

*  if  YOU  had  but  heard  the  old  dame  tell  her  astonishment  and 
her  pride,  when  she  saw  you  enter  their  former  miserable  hift. 
and  sitting  down  on  an  old  sea-chest,  invite  her  to  tell,  and 
listened  to  all  her  troubles,  just  as  if  you  had  been  her  equal, 
and  left  such  comfort  and  such  hope  behind  you,  as  had  not 
been  theirs  for  many  a  long  day.  She  actually  cried  when  she 
spoke,  and  so  did  I,  because  she  spoke  so  of  my  mother.  Oh, 
mother,  darling,  how  proud  your  children  ought  to  be,  to  belong 
to  one  so  beloved,  so  revered  by  the  poor,  and  the  rich  too,  aa 
you  are ! " 

"  Flatterer  !  "  playfully  answered  Mrs.  Hamilton,  laying  her 
hand  caressingly  on  her  child's  mouth,  as  she  knelt  in  sport 
before  her.  "  I  will  not  hear  such  praise,  even  from  you.  Be- 
lieve me,  darling,  to  win  love  and  respect  is  so  easy,  so  delight- 
ful, that  there  is  no  merit  in  obtaining  it.  We  ought  only  to  be 
thankful,  when  granted  such  a  station  and  such  influence  as 
will  permit  extended  usefulness  and  thought  for  others,  without 
wronging  our  own." 

"  Yes ;  but,  mamma,  many  people  do  a  great  deal  of  good, 
but  somehow  or  other  they  are  not  beloved." 

"  Because,  perhaps,  in  their  earnest  desire  to  accomplish  a 
great  deal  of  good,  they  may  not  think  quite  enough  of  litth 
things,  and  of  the  quick  sympathy  with  other  persons'  feelings, 
which  is  the  real  secret  of  winning  love,  and  without  which, 
sometimes  even  the  greatest  benefit  is  not  valued  as  it  ought  to 
be.  But  did  you  see  old  Collins  himself?  " 

"  He  came  in  just  before  we  left,  and  was  so  delighted  to  see 
papa  sitting  in  his  ingle-nook,  and  only  wished  Edward  had 
been  there  too." 

"And  where  is  your  father  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Hamilton.  Did 
he  not  return  with  you  ?" 

"Yes,  but  Edward  wanted  him,  and  they  are  in  the  library. 
[  am  quite  certain  there  is  some  conspiracy  between  them  ; 
these  long  private  interviews  bode  no  good.  I  shall  scold  papa 
for  being  so  mysterious,"  said  Emmeline. 

"  I  rather  think  he  will  return  the  benefit,  by  scolding  you 
for  being  so  curious,  Emmy.  But  here  is  Edward,  so  the  inter- 
view to-day  has  not  been  very  long." 

"  Has  papa  been  telling  you  old  Collins's  naval  news,  Ned  ?  " 
And,  without  waiting  for  an  answer,  she  continued,  "  that  there 
is  a  fine  seventy-four,  the  Sea  Queen,  preparing  at  Plymouth, 
to  take  the  place  of  your  old  ship,  and  send  back  Sir  Edward 
Manly  and  the  Prince  "William.  Now  do  not  tell  me  yon  know 
this,  Edward,  anil  so  disappoint  me  of  the  rare  pleasure  of  tell 
ing  neAVS," 


#04  HOME   INFLUENCE. 

"I  am  sorry,  Emmy,  but  I  have  known  it  for  some  week?.' 

"And  why  did  you  not  tell  us  ?  " 

u  Because  I  did  not  think  it  would  particularly  interest  you, 
until  I  could  add  other  intelligence  to  it."  He  stopped,  and 
looked  alternately  at  Mrs.  Hamilton  and  Ellen,  as  if  asking  the 
former  whether  he  might  proceed. 

"  And  can  you  do  so  now,  my  dear  Edward  ?  "  she  replied, 
understanding  him  at  once.  "  Ellen  is  too  anxious  for  your 
advancement  to  expect,  or  wish  you  always  to  remain  with  her. 
Have  you  your  appointment  ?  " 

"  Yes,  aunt.  My  uncle's  letter  to  the  admiralty  brought  an 
answer  at  last.  It  came  while  he  was  out,  and  has  been  tanta- 
lizing me  on  the  library-table  for  four  hours.  But  it  is  all  right, 
As  the  Prince  William  is  returning,  and  I  am  so  anxious  to  be 
still  in  active  service,  I  am  permitted,  though  somewhat  against 
rule,  to  have  a  berth  in  the  Sea  Queen.  I  am  sure  it  is  all 
uncle  Hamilton's  representations,  and  I  am  so  thankful,  so 
glad ! " 

"  To  leave  us  all,  again,  you  unfeeling  savage  !  "  exclaimed 
Enimeline,  trying  to  laugh  off  the  universal  regret  at  this  an- 
nouncement. Ellen  had  looked  earnestly  at  her  brother  all  the 
time  he  spoke,  and  then  turned  her  face  away,  and  a  few  quiet 
tears  trickled  down  her  cheek.  Edward's  arm  was  very  quickly 
round  her,  and  he  whispered  so  many  fond  words  and  earnest 
assurances,  united  with  his  conviction  that  it  would  still  be  a 
whole  month,  perhaps  more,  before  he  should  be  summoned,  as 
he  had  leave  to  remain  with  his  family  till  the  Sea  Queen  was 
ready  to  sail,  that  she  rallied  her  spirits,  and,  after  remaining 
very  quiet  for  an  hour,  which  was  always  her  custom  when  she 
had  had  any  struggle  with  herself,  for  the  frame  felt  it  —  though 
neither  word  nor  sign  betrayed  it  —  she  was  enabled  fully  to 
enjoy  the  grand  delight  of  the  evening  —  Percy's  and  Herbert's 
arrival. 

Easter  week  was  indeed  one  of  family  joy  and  thankfulness, 
not  only  that  they  were  all  permitted  once  more  to  be  together, 
but  that  the  heavy  clouds  of  sin  and  suffering  had  rolled  away 
from  their  roof,  and  pleasure  of  the  sweetest  and  most  enduring 
because  most  domestic  kind,  reigned  triumphant.  Percy's  as- 
tonishment at  Edward's  growth,  and  the  alteration  from  the 
handsome,  joyous,  rosy  boy,  to  the  pale,  almost  care-worn  look- 
ing youth  (fur  as  long  as  Ellen  bore  such  vivid  traces  of  all  sho 
had  endured  for  his  sake,  and  was,  as  it  were,  the  constant 
pre.sencB  of  his  errors,  Edward  tried  in  vain  to  recover  hii> 
former  spirits,)  was  most  .amusing 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  365 

"  Vou  are  all  deceived,"  he  would  declare;  "one  of  these 
days  you  will  discover  you  have  been  receiving  a  spurious  Ed- 
ward Fortescue,  and  that  he  is  as  much  a  pretender  as  his 
namesake,  Charles  Edward." 

u  Then  he  is  no  pretender,  Percy.  He  is  as  truly  the  son  of 
Colonel  Fortescue,  as  Prince  Charles  was  the  grandson  of 
James.  Now  don't  begin  a  civil  contest  directly  you  come 
home ;  you  know  you  and  I  never  do  agree  on  historical  sub- 
jects, and  we  never  shall;  you  hate  Mary  the  great,  great, 
great  grandmother  of  Prince  Charles,  and  I  love  her,  so  we 
must  be  always  at  war." 

"Stuart-mad,  as  usual,  Tiny!  but  if  that  really  be  Edward, 
I  wish  he  would  just  look  a  boy  again,  I  don't  like  the  change  at 
all ;  poor  fellow ! "  he  added,  to  himself,  "  it  is  not  much  wonder." 

The  days  passed  much  too  quickly.  Emmeline  wished  a 
dozen  times  that  the  days  would  be  twenty-four,  instead  of 
twelve  hours  long.  The  weather  was  so  genial  that  it  added 
u)  enjoyment,  and  allowed  Ellen  the  delight,  known  only  to 
such  prisoners  to  sickness  as  she  had  been,  of  driving  out  for 
an  hour  or  two  at  a  time,  and  taking  gentle  walks  on  the  ter- 
race, and  in  the  garden.  The  young  men  were  to  return  on  the 
Monday,  and  on  the  Saturday  previous  a  little  excursion  had 
been  planned,  to  which  the  only  drawback  was  that  Ellen  was 
not  quite  strong  enough  to  accompany  them:  it  was  to  visit 
Alice  Seaton,  whom  we  mentioned  in  a  former  chapter.  Mr. 
Hamilton  had  succeeded  in  finding  her  brother  a  lucrative  em- 
ployment with  a  lawyer  in  one  of  the  neighboring  towns,  a  few 
miles  from  where  she  and  her  aunt  now  lived,  enabling  young 
Seaton  to  spend  every  Sabbath  with  them ;  and  Alice  now  kept 
a  girls'  school  on  her  own  account,  and  conducted  herself  so 
well  as  never  to  want  scholars.  It  had  been  a  long  promise  to 
go  and  see  her,  the  drive  from  Oakwood  being  also  most  beau- 
tiful; and  as  she  and  her  brother  were  both  at  home  and  at 
leisure  the  last  day  in  Easter,  it  had  been  fixed  upon  for  the 
visit.  Percy  was  revelling  in  the  idea  of  driving  his  mother 
and  Miss  Harcourt  in  a  new  barouche,  and  the  rest  of  the  party 
were  to  goon  horse-back.  But  a  dispute  had  arisen  who  should 
stay  with  Ellen,  and  Edward  insisted  upon  it,  it  was  his  right ; 
and  so  they  thought  it  was  agreed. 

"I  wish,  dear  Percy  you  would  prevail  on  Edward  to  accom- 
pany you,"  pleaded  Ellen,  fancying  herself  alone  with  him,  not 
seeing  Herbert,  who  was  reading  at  a  distant  table. 

"I  wish,  dear  Ellen,  you  were  going  with  us,"  he  ans<ver<',if, 
mimicking  her  tone. 


366  HOME   INFLUENCE. 

"  But  as  I  cannot,  make  him  go.  It  always  makes  him  more 
unhappy  when  I  am  prevented  any  pleasure,  than  it  does  my- 
self; and  I  cannot  bear  to  keep  him  by  me  four  or  five  hours, 
when  this  lovely  day,  and  the  exercise  of  riding,  and,  above  all, 
your  company,  Percy,  would  make  him,  at  least  for  the  time, 
almost  his  own  merry  self,  again." 

"Thanks  for  the  implied  compliment,  cousin  mine,"  replied 
Percy,  with  a  low  bow. 

"  Keward  me  for  it,  and  make  him  go." 

"  How  can  I  be  so  ungallant,  as  to  make  him  leave  you 
alone?" 

"  Oh,  I  do  not  mind  it,  I  assure  you ! "  I  am  well  enough  to 
amuse  myself  now ;  I  cannot  bear  you  all  giving  up  so  many 
pleasures  as  you  have  done  for  me ;  I  am  so  afraid  of  getting 
selfish." 

"  You  selfish,  Ellen  ?  I  wish  you  were  a  little  more  so ;  you 
are  the  most  patient,  devoted  little  creature  that  ever  took 
woman's  form.  You  have  made  me  reproach  myself  enough,  I 
can  tell  you,  and  I  owe  you  a  grudge  for  doing  so." 

"  Dear  Percy,  what  can  you  mean  ?  If  you  knew  how  hard 
I  find  it  to  be  patient,  sometimes,  you  would  not  praise  me." 

"I  mean  that  the  last  time  I  was  at  home,  I  was  blind  and 
cruel,  and  added  to  your  sufferings  by  my  uncalled-for  harsh- 
ness, and  never  had  an  opportunity  till  this  moment,  to  say  how 
gi'ieved  I  was  —  when  the  truth  was  known." 

"  Pray  do  not  say  any  thing  about  it,  dear  Percy,"  entreated 
his  cousin,  the  tears  starting  to  her  eyes,  as  he  kissed  her 
warmly ;  it  was  only  just  and  natural  that  you  should  have  felt 
indignant  with  me,  for  causing  aunt  Emmeline  so  much  misery, 
and  alloying  all  the  enjoyment  of  your  holidays.  I  am  sure  you 
need  not  reproach  yourself;  but  will  you  make  Edward  go?" 

"If  it  really  will  oblige  you,  Ellen;  but  I  do  not  half  like  it." 
And  he  was  going  very  reluctantly,  when  he  met  Herbert. 

"You  need  not  go,  Percy,"  he  said  smiling;  "my  ungra- 
cious cousin  would  not  depute  me  as  her  messenger,  but  I  made 
myself  such,  and  so  successfully  that  Edward  will  go,  Ellen." 

"  Dear  Herbert,  how  can  I  thank  you  enough !  he  will  be  so 
much  happier  with  you  all." 

"  Not  with  me,"  said  Herbert,  archly,  "  for  I  remain  in  his 
place." 

"  You ! "  repeated  Ellen,  surprised  5  "  indeed,  dear  Herbert, 
it  must  not  be.  I  shall  do  very  well  alone." 

"Ungracious  still,  Ellen!  what  if  I  have  been  looking  all  the 
morning  for  some  excuse  to  stay  at  home,  without  owning  tct 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  367 

oi  y  mother  the  truth  —  that  I  do  not  feel  to-day  quite  equal  to 
riding?  If  your  looks  were  as  ungracious  as  your  words,  I 
would  run  away  from  you  into  my  own  room ;  but  as  they  are 
rather  more  gratifying  to  my  self-love,  we  will  send  them  all 
away,  and  enjoy  our  own  quiet  pleasures  and  your  little  drive 
together,  Nell." 

Whatever  Ellen  might  have  said  to  convince  him  she  could 
be  happy  alone,  the  beaming  look  of  pleasure  on  her  counte- 
nance, satisfied  all  parties  as  to  the  excellence  of  this  arrange- 
ment; and  happy,  indeed,  the  day  was.  Herbert  seemed  to 
understand  her  unexpressed  feelings  so  fully ;  and  that  always 
makes  the  charm  of  conversation,  whatever  its  subject.  We  do 
not  require  the  expression  in  words  of  sympathy  —  it  is  an  in- 
describable something  that  betrays  its  existence.  Favorite  au- 
thors —  and  Herbert  was  almost  surprised  at  Ellen's  dawning 
taste  and  judgment  in  literature  —  the  delights  of  nature  after 
a  long  confinement,  as  if  every  flower  were  more  sweet,  every 
bit  of  landscape,  or  wood,  or  water  more  beautiful,  and  the 
many  holy  thoughts  and  pure  joys  springing  from  such  feelings, 
were  all  discussed,  either  cosily  in  their  sitting-room,  or  in  their 
ramble  in  the  garden;  and  after  Ellen's  early  dinner,  which 
Herbert  shared  with  her  as  lunch,  she  proposed,  what  she 
knew  he  would  like,  that  her  drive  should  be  to  Greville  Manor, 
and  they  might  spend  a  full  hour  with  their  friends,  and  yet  be 
back  in  time.  Herbert  assented  gladly ;  and  the  warm  wel- 
come they  received,  Mis.  Greville's  kind  care  of  Ellen,  and 
Mary's  eager  chat  with  her  and  Herbert,  and  the  number  of 
things  they  seemed  to  find  to  talk  about,  made  the  hour  literally 
fly  ;  but  Herbert,  enjoyable  as  it  was,  did  not  forget  his  charge, 
and  drove  her  back  to  Oakwood  while  the  sun  still  shone  bright 
and  warmly :  and  when  the  party  returned,  which  they  did  only 
just  in  time  to  dress  for  dinner,  and  in  the  wildest  spirits,  the 
balance  of  pleasure  at  home  and  abroad,  would  certainly  have 
been  found  quite  equal. 

Ellen  still  continued  quietly  to  lie  down  in  her  own  room 
while  the  family  were  at  dinner,  for  she  was  then  sufficiently 
refreshed  to  join  them  for  a  few  hours  in  the  evening.  Percy 
and  Emmeline,  at  dinner  that  day,  kept  up  such  a  tire  of  wit 
and  mirth,  that  it  was  somewhat  difficult  for  any  one  else  to 
edge  in  a  word,  though  Edward  and  Caroline  did  sometimes 
contrive  to  bring  a  whole  battery  against  themselves.  Just  as 
the  dessert  was  placed  on  the  table,  however,  sounds  of  rural 
music  in  the  distance,  advancing  nearer  and  nearer,  caused 
Percy  to  joause  in  his  wild  sallies,  and  spring  with  Edward  to 


368  HOME   INFLUENCE. 

Ihe  window,  and  their  exclamations  soon  compelled  all  the 
party  to  follow  their  example,  and  send  for  Ellen  to  see  the  un- 
expected sight  too.  Banners  and  pennons  floated  in  the  sun- 
shine, and  the  greater  part  of  the  nautical  inhabitants  of  Dart- 
mouth were  marshalled  in  goodly  array  beside  them,  headed  by 
Captain  Harvey  and  his  crew,  with  Collins  in  the  midst  of 
them ;  they  were  all  attired  in  the  new  clothing  wliich  Mr.  Ha- 
milton had  presented  to  them ;  and  a  fine  picture  Percy  declar- 
ed old  Collins's  head  would  make,  with  his  weather-beaten, 
honest-speaking  face,  the  very  peculiar  curls  in  which  his  really 
yellow  hair  was  twisted,  and  the  quid  of  tobacco,  from  which, 
even  on  this  grand  occasion,  he  could  not  relieve  his  mouth  and 
cheek.  A  band  of  young  men  and  girls  surrounded  the  first 
banner,  which,  adorned  with  large  bunches  of  primroses  and 
violets  up  the  staff,  bore  the  words,  "Hamilton  and  benevo- 
lence ; "  and  among  them  Emmeline  speedly  recognized  William 
Grey  and  Susan  Collins,  walking  side  by  side,  she  looking  down 
and  smiling,  and  he  so  earnestly  talking,  that  she  whispered  tc 
her  mother  with  the  greatest  glee,  that  her  plan  would  take 
place  after  all.  Then  came  a  band  of  sturdy  fishermen,  chums 
and  messmates  of  Collins,  and  then  a  band  of  boys  and  girls, 
from  all  Mr.  Hamilton's  own  village  schools,  decked  in  their 
Holiday  attire,  and  holding  in  their  hands  tasteful  garlands  of  all 
the  spring  flowers  they  could  muster,  and  bearing  two  largo 
banners,  one  with  the  words,  "  Fortescue  forever !  All  hail  to 
British  sailors ! "  and  the  other  a  representation  of  the  scene 
on  the  beach  that  eventful  night,  and  the  sinking  vessel  in  the 
distance.  The  workmanship  was  rude  indeed,  but  the  effect  so 
strikingly  descriptive,  that  Mrs.  Hamilton  actually  shuddered 
as  she  gazed,  and  grasped,  almost  unconsciously,  the  arm  of  her 
nephew  as  he  stood  by  her,  as  if  the  magnitude  of  the  danger, 
both  to  him  and  her  husband,  had  never  seemed  so  vivid  before. 
The  windows  of  the  dining-room  had  been  thrown  widely 
open,  and  as  the  rustic  procession  came  in  sight  of  those  to 
whom  their  whole  hearts  tendered  homage,  they  halted ;  the 
music  ceased,  and  cheer  on  cheer  resounded,  till  the  very 
echoes  of  the  old  park  were  startled  out  of  their  sleep,  and 
sent  the  shout  back  again.  Percy  was  among  them  in  a  mo- 
ment, singling  out  old  Collins,  whom  he  had  tried  repeatedly 
to  see  since  his  visit  home,  but  never  found  him,  and  grasped 
and  shook  both  his  hands  with  the  full  vehemence  of  his  cha- 
racter, pouring  out  the  first  words  that  chose  to  coc  e,  which 
better  expressed  his  grateful  feelings  to  the  old  man  than  the 
most  studied  speech.  William  Gr^y  had  already  received  sub 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  369 

stantial  proofs  of  his  gratitude,  and  so  he  had  then  only  a  kind 
nod,  ani  a  joke  and  look  at  the  pretty,  blushing  Susan,  which 
said  a  vast  deal  to  both,  and  seemed  as  if  he  quite  seconded 
Emmeline's  plan.  Mingling  joyously  with  all,  he  had  bluff 
words,  after  their  own  hearts,  for  the  men,  smiles  for  the  maid- 
ens, and  such  wild  jokes  for  the  children,  as  lost  them  all  de- 
corum, and  made  them  shout  aloud  in  their  glee.  Herbert  se- 
conded him  quite  as  well  as  his  quieter  nature  would  allow. 
Edward  had  hung  back,  even  when  his  name  was  called  out 
lustily,  as  if  he  could  not  bear  such  homage. 

"  Join  them,  my  boy  ;  their  humble  pleasure  will  not  be  half 
complete  without  you,"  whispered  Mrs.  Hamilton,  earnestly,  for 
she  guessed  his  thoughts.  "  Remember  only  at  this  moment 
the  large  amount  of  happiness  you  have  been  permitted  to  cal1 
forth.  Do  not  underrate  a  deed  which  all  must  admire,  because 
of  some  sad  thoughts ;  rather  resolve  —  as  you  can  and  have 
resolved  —  that  the  alloy  shall  be  burned  away,  and  the  true 
metal  alone  remain,  for  my  sake,  to  whom  you  have  given  such 
happiness,  dear  Edward." 

The  cloud  dispersed  from  brow  and  heart  in  a  moment ;  and 
he  was  in  the  midst  of  them,  glad  and  buoyant  almost  as  Percy, 
while  the  cheer  which  greeted  him  was  almost  overpowering  to 
his  sister,  so  much  humble,  yet  earnest  feeling  did  it  speak. 

"  You  really  should  have  given  us  timely  notice  of  your  in- 
tentions, my  good  friend,"  said  Mr.  Hamilton,  warmly  grasping 
Captain  Harvey's  hand.  "At  least  we  might  have  provided 
some  substantial  refreshment  after  your  long  march,  as  I  fear  we 
have  but  slender  fare  to  offer  you,  though  Ellis  and  Morris  are 
busy  already,  I  am  happy  to  see." 

And  urged  on  by  their  own  delight  at  this  homage  both  to 
their  master  and  his  young  preserver,  who  had  become  a  com- 
plete idol  among  them,  a  long  table  was  speedily  laid  in  the 
servants'  hall,  covered  with  a  variety  of  cold  meats,  and  bread 
and  cheese  in  abundance,  and  horns  of  cider  sparkling  brightly 
beside  each  trencher.  Fruit  and  cakes  eagerly  sought  for  by 
Emmeline,  were  by  her  distributed  largely  to  the  children,  who 
remained  variously  grouped  on  the  lawn,  their  glee  at  the  treat 
heightened  by  the  sweet  and  gentle  manner  of  its  lestowal. 

Captain  Harvey  and  his  mate,  Mr.  Hamilton  entertained 
himself,  introducing  them  to  his  family,  and  especially  Ellen, 
who,  as  the  sister  of  Edward,  found  herself  regarded  with  an 
mterest  that  surprised  her.  Percy  brought  in  old  Collins  and 
Grey,  both  of  whom  had  expressed  such  a  wish  to  see  any  one 
so  nearly  belonging  to  the  brave  young  sailor ;  and  her  manner 


370  HOME   INFLUENCE. 

of  receiving  and  returning  their  greeting,  thanking  them  for  the 
help  they  had  so  efficiently  given  her  brother,  made  them  still 
prouder  and  happier  than  before.  After  an  hour  and  a  half 
of  thorough  enjoyment  —  for  their  humble  homage  to  worth 
and  goodness  had  been  received  in  the  same  spirit  as  it  had 
been  tendered  —  the  procession  marshalled  itself  in  the  same 
order  as  it  had  come  ;  and  rude  as  the  music  was,  it  sounded, 
as  Emmeline  declared,  really  beautiful,  becoming  fainter  and 
fainter  in  the  distance,  and  quite  picturesque  the  effect  of  the 
banners  and  pennons,  as  they  gleamed  in  and  out  the  woody 
windings  of  the  park,  both  music  and  procession  softened  in  the 
mild,  lovely  twilight  of  the  season. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

A    HOME    SCENE,    AND    A    PARTING. 

"  CAROLINE  !  Emmeline  !  come  to  the  music-room,  for  pity's 
pake,  and  give  me  some  delicious  harmony,"  exclaimed  Percy, 
as  soon  as  lights  came,  and  the  excitement  of  the  last  two  hours 
had  a  little  subsided.  "  Sit  quiet  —  unless  I  have  some  amuse- 
ment for  my  ears  —  I  neither  can  nor  will.  I  will  have  some 
music  to  lull  my  tired  senses,  and  a  waltz  to  excite  my  wearied 
frame." 

"And  rest  your  limbs,"  said  Edward,  dryly. 

"  Don't  you  know,  master  sailor,  that  when  fatigued  with  one 
kind  of  exercise,  the  best  rest  is  to  take  another  ?  Now  I  have 
been  standing  up,  playing  the  agreeable,  for  two  mortal  hours, 
and  I  mean  to  have  a  waltz  to  bring  back  the  stagnant  circula- 
tion, and  to  be  pleased  for  the  fatigue  of  pleasing.  Caroline 
and  Emmeline,  away  with  you  both.  Ellen,  love,  I  will  only 
ask  you  to  come  with  us,  and  be  pleased,  too.  Be  oft',  Edward, 
no  one  shall  be  my  cousin's  cavalier  but  myself;  Herbert  has 
had  her  all  day.  Take  my  mother,  if  you  like.  Father,  escort 
Miss  Ilarcourt.  That's  all  right,  as  it  always  is,  when  I  have 
my  own  way  !  " 

His  own  way,  this  time,  gave  universal  satisfaction.  The  ta- 
lents of  his  sisters  had  been  so  cultivated,  as  a  means  of  en- 
hancing home-happiness,  and  increasing  their  own  resources, 
that  their  musical  evenings  were  always  perfect  enjoyment 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  371 

Caroline,  indeed,  improved  as  she  was,  still  retained  her  love 
of  admiration  sufficiently,  to  find  still  greater  enjoyment  iu 
playing  and  singing  when  there  were  more  to  listen  to  her, 
than  merely  her  own  family,  but  the  feeling,  in  the  security  and 
pure  atmosphere  of  Oakwood,  was  kept  under  control,  and  she 
could  find  real  pleasure  in  gratifying  her  brothers,  though  not 
quite  to  the  same  extent  as  Emmeline. 

Percy,  after  comfortably  settling  Ellen,  threw  himself  on  the 
most  luxurious  chair  that  he  could  find,  stretched  out  his  legs, 
placed  his  head  in  what  he  called  the  best  position  for  listening 
and  enjoying,  and  then  called  for  duets  on  the  harp  and  piano, 
single  pieces  on  both,  and  song  after  song,  with  the  most  merci- 
less rapidity. 

"  Your  sisters  shall  neither  play  nor  sing  to  you  any  more," 
his  mother,  at  length,  laughingly,  said,  "  unless  you  rouse  your- 
self from  this  disgracefully  idle  fit,  and  take  your  flute,  and 
join  them." 

"  Mother,  you  are  lost  to  every  sensation  of  mercy  !  after  all 
my  exertions,  where  am  I  to  find  breath  ?  " 

"  You  have  had  plenty  of  time  to  rest,  you  lazy  fellow  ;  let- 
ting your  sisters  fatigue  themselves,  without  remorse,  and  refus- 
ing your  share,"  expostulated  Edward.  "  Caroline,  Emmeline, 
take  my  advice,  and  strike !  don't  play  another  note." 

"  You  young  rebel !  teaching  my  sisters  to  revolt  against  the 
authority  of  euch  an  important  person  as  myself.  However,  I 
will  be  condescending  for  once ;  Tiny,  there's  a  love,  fetch  me 
my  flute." 

It  was  so  very  close  to  him  as  he  approached  the  piano,  that 
his  sister  comically  took  his  hand,  and  placed  it  on  it,  and  two 
or  three  very  pretty  trios  were  performed,  Percy  declared  with 
professional  eclat. 

"  Now  don't  go,  Percy,  we  want  your  voice  in  a  song.  Em- 
my, sinj?  that  pretty  one  to  your  harp,  that  we  wish  papa  so 
much  to  hear  ;  Percy  and  I  will  join,  when  wanted." 

"  Caroline,  I  have  not  the  genius  to  sing  at  sight." 

"  Oh,  you  have  often !  and  the  words  will  inspire  you. 
Come,  Herbert,  we  want  you,  too  ;  Edward's  singing  voice  has 
deserted  him,  or  I  should  enlist  him  also.  Emmeline,  what  are 
you  waiting  for  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  sing  it,  dear  Caroline  ;  do  not  ask  me,"  answered 
Emmeline,  with  a  confusion  and  timidity,  which,  at  home,  were 
perfectly  incomprehensible. 

"  ^hy,  my  little  Emmy,  I  am  quite  curious  to  hear  this  new 
b<~>ng  do  not  disappoint  me  !  "  said  her  father,  encouragingly. 


372  HOME   INFLUENCE. 

"  But  after  Caroline  I  cannot  sing  worth  hearing,"  still 
pleaded  Emmeline. 

u  My  dear  child,  I  never  heard  you  make  such  a  foolish  ex- 
cuse before  ;  your  mother  and  myself  never  find  any  difference 
in  the  pleasure  that  listening  to  your  music  bestows,  however 
we  performer  may  be  more  naturally  gifted  than  the  other." 

"  I  declare  I  must  sing  it  if  it  be  only  for  the  mystery  of 
Tiny's  refusing,"  said  Percy,  laughing.  "  Come,  Bertie  —  a 
MS.  too  —  what  a  trial  for  one's  nerves." 

The  words,  however,  seemed  sufficiently  satisfactory  for  them 
readily  to  join  in  it.  Emmeline  still  hesitated,  almost  painfully  ; 
but  then  gathering  courage,  she  sat  down  to  her  harp,  and, 
without  any  notes  before  her,  played  a  few  bars  of  one  of  those 
sweet,  thrilling  Irish  melodies,  so  suited  to  her  instrument,  and 
then  commenced  her  song,  the  sweetness  of  her  voice,  and 
clearness  of  articulation  atoning  well  for  her  deficiency  in  the 
power  and  brilliancy  which  characterized  her  sister.  The  worda 
were  exceedingly  simple,  but  sung  with  deep  feeling,  an  1  heart- 
appealing  as  they  were,  from  the  subject,  we  hope  our  readers 
will  judge  them  as  leniently  as  Emmeline's  hearers. 

EMMELINE'S   SONG. 

"  Joy !  joy !    No  more  shall  sorrow  cloud 

The  home  by  Love  enshrined : 
The  hearts  in  Care's  cold  letters  bow'd, 

Now  loveliest  flowers  have  twined; 
And  dove-eyed  Peace,  with  brooding  wii  g, 

Hath  made  her  dwelling  here; 
And  Hope  and  Love  sweet  incense  fling, 

To  welcome  and  endear. 

"He  has  retnm'd!  —  and  starless  night 

No  longer  o'er  us  lowers. 
Joy !  joy !     The  future  is  all  bright 

With  rosy-blossom'd  hours. 
What  gladness  with  our  Father  fled! 

What  gladness  he'll  restore! 
He  has  return'd,  through  perils  dread. 

To  bless  his  own  once  more! 

"  Joy !  joy !    Oh  let  our  voices  raise 

Their  glad  and  grateful  lay, 
And  pour  forth  thanksgiving  and  praise 

That  grief  hath  passed  away ! 
That  he  was  snatch' d  from  storm  and  wave 

To  dry  pale  Sorrow's  tear; 
Restored!   his  home  from  woe  to  save  — 

Oh!   welcome,  Father  dear!" 

Emn»eliiie's  vciee  had  at  first  trembled  audibly,  but  setrmi.g 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  37,'3 

to  derive  courage  from  her  sister  and  brother's  accompaniment, 
which,  from  their  knowledge  of  music,  was  so  beautifully  mo- 
dulated as  to  permit  her  sweet  voice  to  be  heard  above  all,  and 
every  word  clearly  distinguished,  it  became  firmer  and  more 
earnest  as  she  continued,  till  she  forgot  every  thing  but  the  sub- 
ject of  her  song.  For  full  a  minute  there  was  silence  as  she 
ceased,  but  with  an  irresistible  impulse  Mr.  Hamilton  rose  from 
his  seat,  and,  as  Emmeline  left  her  harp,  he  clasped  her  in  his 
arms. 

"  How  can  I  thank  you,  my  Emmeline,  and  all  my  children, 
for  this  fond  greeting  ?  "  he  exclaimed,  with  more  emotion  than 
he  generally  permitted  to  be  visible.  "Where  could  you  find 
such  appropriate  words  ?  What !  tears,  my  little  girl,"  he  added, 
as,  completely  overcome  by  the  excitement  of  her  song  and  her 
father's  praise,  Emmeline  most  unexpectedly  burst  into  tears. 
"  What  business  have  they  to  come  when  you  have  given  your 
parents  nothing  but  pleasure  ?  Drive  them  away,  love  ;  what ! 
still  no  smile  ?  We  must  appeal  to  mamma's  influence,  then, 
to  explain  and  soothe  them." 

"  Where  did  you  get  them,  Tiny?  explain,  for  I  am  positively 
faint  from  curiosity,"  comically  demanded  Percy,  as  Emmeline, 
breaking  from  her  father,  sat  down  on  her  favorite  stool  at  her 
mother's  feet,  and  hid  her  face  in  her  lap.  Mrs.  Hamilton  laid 
her  hand  caressingly  on  those  soft  curls,  but  though  she  smiled, 
she  did  not  speak. 

"  She  will  not  tell,  and  you  will  none  of  you  guess,"  said 
Caroline,  laughing. 

"You  are  in  the  secret,  so  out  with  it,"  said  Edward. 

"  Not  I ;  I  am  pledged  to  silence." 

"  Mother,  dear,  tell  us  for  pity,"  pleaded  Herbert. 

"I  can  only  guess,  for  I  am  not  in  her  confidence,  I  assure 
you,"  she  replied,  in  the  same  playful  tone,  and  raising  Emme- 
line's  lowered  head,  she  looked  a  moment  in  those  conscious 
eyes.  "Dictated  by  my  Emmeline's  affectionate  little  heart, 
they  were  found  in  this  pretty  shape,  in  the  recesses  of  her  own 
''anciful  brain  —  is  not  that  it,  dearest  ?  " 

"There,  Emmy,  I  knew  mamma  would  find  it  out,  however 
we  might  be  silent,"  said  Caroline,  triumphantly,  as  her  sister's 
face  was  again  concealed. 

"  Emmeline  turned  poet !  Angels  and  ministers  of  grace  de- 
fund  me  !  I  must  hide  my  diminished  head  ! "  spouted  Percy. 
"  I  thought  at  least  I  might  retain  my  crown  as  the  poet  of  the 
family,  and  to  be  rivalled  by  you  —  a  light-footed  fawn  —  wild 
gazelle  —  airy  sprite  —  my  especial  Tiny  !  it  is  unbearable  !  " 


374  HOME    INFLUENCE. 

"But  we  must  all  thank  you,  notwithstandii  g,  Einmy,"  con- 
tinued Herbert. 

"Ah,  but  I  have  very  little  to  do  with  it ;  the  arrangement, 
of  the  words  to  the  air,  and  the  accompaniment,  are  Caroline's ; 
I  could  not  have  done  that,"  said  Emmeline ;  her  tears  changed 
to  her  most  joyous  smiles. 

Percy  and  his  father  turned  directly  to  Caroline,  the  former 
with  a  Sir  Charles  Grandison's  bow,  the  other  with  a  most  affec- 
tionate kiss  ;  and  her  mother  looked  at  her  with  such  an  expres- 
sion of  gratified  pleasure,  that  she  could  not  help  acknowledging 
to  herself,  such  pure  enjoyment  was  not  to  be  found  in  the 
praise  and  admiration  of  strangers. 

"Now,  Emmeline,  you  have  still  a  mystery  to  explain,"  said 
Edward.  "Why  did  you  not  own  your  offspring,  instead  of, 
by  silence,  almost  denying  them  ?  " 

"And  here  I  really  cannot  help  you,"  answered  Mrs.  Ham- 
ilton ;  "  I  cannot  imagine  why  my  Emmy  should  conceal  a  fact 
that  could  only  give  pleasure  to  us  all." 

"  I  think  I  know,"  said  Ellen,  timidly ;  "  Emmeline  was  think- 
ing of  all  you  said  about  controlling  an  impulse,  and  not  always 
encouraging  that  which  she  termed  inspiration,  and  perhaps  she 
thought  you  did  not  quite  approve  of  her  writing,  and  so  wished 
to  conceal  it." 

"  How  could  you  guess  so  exactly,  Ellen?"  hastily  answered 
Emmeline,  forgetting,  in  her  surprise  at  her  cousin's  penetration, 
that  she  betrayed  herself. 

"  Because  I  should  have  felt  the  same,"  said  Ellen,  simply. 

"  Then  I  must  have  explained  myself  very  badly,  my  dear 
children,  or  you  must  have  both  misunderstood  me.  I  did  not 
mean  you  to  neglect  such  an  enjoyment  as  poetry,  but  only  to 
keep  it  in  its  proper  sphere,  and  not  allow  it  to  take  the  place 
of  resources,  equally  intellectual,  but  which  have  and  may  still 
cost  you  more  patience  and  labor.  Poetry  is  a  dangerous  gift, 
my  dear  child ;  but  as  long  as  you  bring  it  to  the  common  trea- 
sury of  Home,  and  regard  it  merely  as  a  recreation,  only  to  be 
enjoyed  when  less  attractive  duties  and  studies  are  completed, 
you  have  my  full  permission  to  cultivate  —  and  try,  b.y  the  study 
of  our  best  authors,  and  whatever  other  help  I  can  obtain  for 
you,  to  improve  yourself  in  it.  No  talent  that  is  lent  us  should 
be  thrown  aside,  my  Emmeline;  our  only  care  must  be,  net  — 
by  loving  and  pursuing  it  too  intensely  —  to  abuse  it;  but  I 
must  not  lecture  you  any  longer,  or  Percy's  patience  will  fail  ; 
I  *ee  he  has  placed  Miss  Harcourt  already  at  the  piano,  and 
Edward  and  Caroline  are  ready  for  their  waltz." 


HOME    INFLUENCE.  375 

'  And  so  I  transform  one  Muse  into  another,"  exclaimed 
I'orcy,  who,  in  his  sister's  absorbed  attention,  had  neared  her 
unobserved,  and  catching  her  round  the  waist,  bore  her  to  the 
upper  end  of  the  room,  and  a  minute  afterward  she  was  enjoy- 
ing her  waltz,  with  as  much  childish  glee,  as  if  neither  poetry 
nor  reflection  could  have  any  thing  to  do  with  her. 

"  Why  is  poetry  a  dangerous  gift,  dear  aunt  ?  "  inquired  Ellen, 
who  had  listened  earnestly  to  all  Mrs.  Hamilton  had  said. 

"  Because,  my  love,  it  is  veiy  apt  to  excite  and  encourage  an 
over-excess  of  feeling ;  gives  a  habit  of  seeing  things  other  than 
they  really  are,  and  engenders  a  species  of  romantic  enthusiasm, 
most  dangerous  to  the  young,  especially  of  our  sex,  whose  feel 
ings  generally  require  control  and  repression,  even  when  not 
joined  to  poetry.  To  a  well-regulated  mind  and  temper,  the 
danger  is  not  of  the  same  serious  kind  as  to  the  irregulated,  but 
merely  consists  in  the  powerful  temptation  it  too  often  presents 
to  neglect  duties  and  employments  of  more  consequence,  for  its 
indulgence.  There  is  a  species  of  fascination  in  the  composition 
of  even  the  most  inferior  poetry,  which  urges  its  pursuits,  as  giv- 
ing so  little  trouble,  compared  to  the  perseverance  necessary  for 
music  and  drawing,  and  such  a  vast  amount  of  pleasure,  that  it 
is  difficult  to  withdraw  from  it.  This  is  still  more  strongly  the 
case  when  the  young  first  become  conscious  of  the  gift,  as  Em- 
meline  is  now.  As  she  gets  older,  and  her  taste  improves,  she 
will  not  be  satisfied  with  her  efforts,  unless  they  are  very  supe- 
rior to  the  present,  and  the  trouble  she  will  take  in  correcting 
and  improving,  will  remove  a  great  deal  of  the  too  dangerous 
fascination  attending  it  now ;  still  I  am  not  anxious,  while  she 
retains  her  confidence  in  my  affection  and  experience,  and  will 
so  control  the  enjoyment,  as  not  to  permit  its  interference  with 
her  other  more  serious  employments." 

Ellen  listened  eagerly,  and  they  continued  conversing  on 
many  similar  topics  of  interest  and  improvement,  till  the  prayer 
bell  rang,  and  startled  her  into  the  recollection  that  she  had 
always  retired  nearly  an  hour  before,  and  so  had  avoided  enter- 
ing the  library,  which  she  still  quite  shrunk  from.  Percy  stop- 
ped his  dance,  which  he  had  converted  from  a  waltz  into  a  most 
Inspiring  gallopade,  the  last  importation,  he  declared,  from  Al- 
mack's  ;  Miss  Harcourt  closed  the  piano  ;  and  Herbert  paused 
in  his  conversation  with  his  father.  Nothing  like  gloom  ever 
marked  the  signal  for  the  hour  of  devotion,  but  lighter  pleasures 
always  ceased  a  few  minutes  before,  that  they  might  better 
r-'alize  the  more  serious  thought  and  service. 

Mrs.  Hamilton  had  never  ceased  to  regret  the  disgrace  she 


376  HOME    INFLUENCE. 

had  inflicted  on  Ellen,  in  not  permitting  her  to  retain  her  own 
place  with  the  family,  at  least  in  the  hours  of  devotion,  for  it 
seemed  more  difficult  to  remove  that  impression  thai  any  of  her 
other  trials.  Returning  her  niece's  startled  look  with  one  of 
the  sincerest  affection,  she  said  — 

"  You  will  remain  with  us  to-night,  my  dear  Ellen,  will  you 
uat?" 

"  If  you  wish  it,  aunt." 

44 1  do  wish  it,  dearest,  most  earnestly.  It  is  so  long  since  J 
lave  had  the  happiness  of  seeing  all  my  children  round  me  in 
this  solemn  hour,  and  till  you  join  us,  I  can  not  feel  quite  sure 
tLat  you  have  indeed  forgiven  an  act  of  severity,  which,  could 
L  but  have  suspected  the  truth,  I  should  never  have  inflicted." 

"  Forgiven  !  —  you  !  "  repeated  Ellen,  in  utter  astonishment, 
but  rising  instantly.  "Aunt  Emmeline,  dear  aunt  Emmeline, 
pray,  do  not  speak  so ;  why  did  you  not  tell  me  your  wish 
before  ?  I  would  have  conquered  my  own  disinclination  to  enter 
the  library,  weeks  ago  ;  indeed,  indeed,  it  only  seemed  associated 
witli  my  own  guilt  and  misery." 

Mrs.  Hamilton  drew  her  arm  fondly  in  hers,  refusing  for  her 
the  aid  of  either  of  the  young  men,  who  hud  all  hastened  toward 
her,  and  led  her  herself  to  the  library,  and  to  her  usual  place 
beside  Emmeline.  Many  an  eager  but  respectful  look  of  affec- 
tionate admiration  was  directed  toward  her  by  the  assembled 
household,  the  greater  part  of  whom  had  not  seen  her  since  the 
night  of  Edward's  confession ;  and  the  alteration  in  her  appear- 
ance, the  universal  sympathy  which  her  dangerous  illness  arid 
its  cause  had  called  forth,  even  in  the  humblest  and  most  igno- 
rant —  for  it  is  the  heart,  not  the  mind,  which  is  required  for  the 
comprehension  of  self-devotion — her  very  youth  seeming  to  in- 
crease its  magnitude,  had  inspired  such  a  feeling  of  love,  that 
could  she  have  known  it,  would  have  prevented  that  painful 
sensation  of  shyness. 

Many,  many  thoughts  thronged  her  mind,  as  her  uncle's  im- 
pressive voice  fell  on  her  ear ;  thoughts  which,  though  they  pre- 
vented her  following  the  words  of  the  prayers,  and  caused  the 
tears,  spite  of  every  effort,  to  stream  through  her  slender  fingers, 
yet  turned  into  thankfulness  and  praise,  ere  the  service  ceased, 
that,  fiery  as  the  ordeal  had  been,  she  could  still  recognize  a 
hand  of  love,  and  bless  God,  not  only  for  the  detection  of  her 
involuntary  sin,  but  for  every  pang  she  had  endured. 

The  next  day  was  Sunday,  bringing  with  It  all  sorts  of  quiet, 
?ober  pleasures  of  its  own,  only  alloyed  by  the  thought  that  it 
was  the  last  day  of  Percy's  and  Herb-Mi's  visit  The  following 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  377 

(Horning  tluy  started  for  Oxford,  Mr.  Hamilton  and  Edward 
intending  to  accompany  them  part  of  the  way,  and  then  tc  pro- 
ceed to  Ashburton,  where  the  former  had  business,  and  then 
make  a  little  tour  through  Plymouth  home.  The  next  day  was 
so  beautifully  fine  and  genial,  that  Emmeline  declared  it  would  do 
Ellen  the  greatest  possible  good  to  go  with  her  a  few  miles  out 
of  the  park,  to  see  a  waterfall  she  had  lately  discovered,  and 
which  she  had  been  longing  for  Ellen  to  see,  as  Caroline  would 
not  admire  it  as  much  as  it  deserved.  Miss  Harcourt  accom- 
panied them,  and  on  their  return,  its  beauties  were  described  to 
Mrs.  Hamilton  in  the  most  animating  strain ;  Emmeline  declar- 
ing the  air  was  more  deliciously  fresh,  the  trees  more  green,  the 
sky  more  brilliantly  blue,  than  they  had  ever  been  before ;  and 
that  the  very  sound  of  the  water,  as  it  dashed  down  a  black 
rock,  and  threw  up  spray,  which  the  rays  of  the  sun  rendered 
so  beautifully  iridescent,  as  to  seem  like  a  succession  of  rain- 
bows, was  a  whole  volume  of  poetry  in  itself. 

"And  what  extraordinary  vision  do  you  think  that  silly  cousin 
of  mine  chose  to  fancy  she  saw  coming  down  the  Ashburton 
road,  mamma?  Actually  the  apparitions  of  papa  and  Edward. 
She  will  persist  in  the  fancy.  Miss  Harcourt  and  I  could  only 
see  two  men  on  horseback,  at  too  great  a  distance  for  any  iden- 
tity to  be  recognized  —  but  it  must  be  their  wraiths,  if  it  be,  for 
they  had  no  idea  of  coming  home  to-day." 

"  I  am  sure  I  was  not  mistaken,  Emmeline,"  said  Ellen 
(whom  her  aunt  now  observed  looked  agitated  and  flushed)  ; 
"and  they  were  riding  so  fast,  something  very  pressing  must 
have  recalled  them." 

"And  you  are  frightening  yourself  at  shadows,  my  dear !  but 
indeed  I  think  you  must  be  mistaken,  for  your  uncle  told  me, 
he  should  be  particularly  engaged  to-day,"  said  Mrs.  Hamilton. 

"  She  is  not  mistaken,  though,"  exclaimed  Caroline,  who  was 
standing  at  one  of  the  windows ;  "  for  here  they  both  are,  true 
enough,  and  riding  quite  fast  down  the  avenue.  However,  the 
mystery  will  soon  be  solved." 

Mr.  Hamilton  and  Edward  entered  almost  immediately  after- 
ward, the  latter  evidently  very  much  agitated,  the  former  so 
tranquil  and  cheerful  that  the  momentary  anxiety  of  his  wife 
was  calmed  directly.  He  laughed  at  their  bewilderment,  and 
said  that  an  important  letter  had  reached  him  at  Ashburt  m, 
summoning  him  to  Plymouth,  and  so  he  thougl  £  he  would  just 
?ee  how  all  was  going  on  at  Oakwood  first.  This  was  not  at 
all  a  satisfactory  reason  from  Mr.  Hamilton.  Edward  evidently 
vi''d  lo  answer  Ellen's  inquiries  quietly,  but  he  could  not,  anc* 


378  HOME   INFLUENCE 

exclaiming,  "You  tell  her,  my  dear  uncle!  I  cannot,"  ran  out 
if  the  room.  Mr.  Hamilton  instantly  changed  his  jesting  man- 
ner, so  far  as  quietly  and  affectionately  to  seat  his  niece  hesiae 
him,  and  tell  her,  cautiously  and  kindly,  the  real  cause  of  their 
unexpected  return.  Orders  had  been  sent  to  the  Sea  Queen, 
to  sail  much  sooner  than  was  expected,  and  therefore  he  had 
deferred  his  business,  and  returned  with  Edward  directly. 

"  It  is  a  trial,  my  dear  Ellen,  a  very  hard  one  just  now,  under 
all  circumstances ;  but  I  am  sure  you  will  bear  it  with  fortitude, 
for  Edward's  sake.  The  only  drawback  to  his  happiness  in 
being  again  permitted  to  follow  his  profession,  is  the  thought 
of  the  trial,  it  will  be  to  you." 

"  But  when  must  we  part  ?  "When  must  he  leave  Oakwood  ?  " 
was  all  poor  Ellen  could  ask ;  but  in  such  a  tone  of  quiet  sor 
row,  her  uncle  could  not  for  the  moment  reply. 

"  The  Sea  Queen  leaves  Plymouth,  wind  permitting,  the  end 
of  the  week,  but  —  Edward  must  be  on  board  to-morrow." 

A  low  cry  escaped  involuntarily  from  Ellen's  lips,  as  she 
buried  her  face  on  the  cushion  of  the  couch  where  she  was  sit- 
ting, and  an  exclamation  of  surprise  and  regret  broke  from  all. 
Mrs.  Hamilton  felt  it  almost  as  much  as  Ellen,  from  not  only 
her  own  unspoken  anxiety,  as  to  whether  indeed  his  home  in- 
fluence would  save  him  from  temptation  in  future,  but  that  she 
could  enter  into  every  thought  and  feeling  which  in  Ellen  must 
so  aggravate  the  actual  parting  —  always  a  sorrow  in  itself. 
After  a  few  minutes  Ellen  raised  her  head,  and,  though  her 
cheek  was  perfectly  colorless,  every  tear  was  checked. 

"  Tell  Edward  he  need  not  fear  my  weakness,  dear  Emme- 
line,"  she  said,  trying  hard  to  speak  quite  calmly.  "  Only  beg 
him  to  come  to  me,  that  we  may  spend  the  little  time  we  have 
together ;  I  will  be  as  cheerful  as  himself."  And,  effort  as  it 
was,  she  kept  her  word ;  so  controlling  sorrow,  to  enter  into  his 
naturally  glad  anticipations,  that  her  brother  felt  as  if  he  could 
not  love,  nor  venerate  her  enough. 

He  was  obliged  to  leave  Oakwood  (accompanied  by  his  uncle) 
so  early  the  next  morning  that  all  his  preparations  had  to  be 
completed  by  that  nighf.  Ellis's  activity,  though  she  could  not 
endure  the  idea  of  his  going,  speedily  and  satisfactorily  settled 
that  matter.  Robert  Langford,  who  had  only  regained  his 
natural  light-heartedness  since  Ellen  had  taken  her  usual  place 
in  the  family,  always  declaring  his  carelessness  had  been  the 
origin  of  all  her  misery,  was  another  so  active  in  his  service, 
that  Edward  had  only  to  give  a  hint  of  any  thirg  he  wanted, 
even  if  it  could  only  be  procured  at  some  distance,  and  it  wa» 
instantly  obtained. 


HOME    INFLUENCE.  379 

The  hours  were  on,  the  evening  devotions  wero  concluded, 
but  still  the  family  lingered  in  the  library :  there  seem  id  so  many 
things  to  say,  for  Mr.  Hamilton  and  Miss  Harcourt  would  not 
let  the  conversation  flag,  and  Edward  would  talk  and  laugh,  as 
if  he  were  only  going  from  home  for  a  few  days.  Midnight 
chimed,  but  still  Mrs.  Hamilton  felt  as  if  she  could  not  give  the 
signal  for  separation :  but  when  one  struck,  there  was  a  general 
start,  and  an  unanimous  declaration  it  could  not  be  so  late. 

"  I  assure  you  it  is,"  Mrs.  Hamilton  cheerfully  said ;  "  and 
poor  Edward  will  get  no  sleep,  if  we  do  not  separate  at  once. 
He  must  certainly  send  you  a  box  of  artificial  roses,  for  this 
unusual  dissipation  will  bear  all  the  natural  ones  away.  Ellen, 
love,  I  must  be  cruel  enough  to  resist  that  pleading  look  ;  re- 
member, your  full  strength  has  not  yet  returned." 

She  spoke  kindly,  but  firmly,  and  there  was  a  general  move. 
Edward,  laughingly,  promised  to  send  his  cousins  the  very  best 
box  of  rouge  he  could  procure  at  Plymouth,  and  wished  them 
good  night  as  gayly  as  if  they  should  meet  as  usual  the  next 
morning.  Once  only  his  voice  faltered  —  "  Ellen,  love,  good 
night !  My  own  sister,  God  in  Heaven  bless  you  ! "  were  all 
he  said  the  last  sentence  escaping  as  if  involuntarily,  as  if  he 
had  merely  meant  to  say  good  night ;  and  for  more  than  a  minute 
the  brother  and  sister  were  clasped  in  each  other's  arms.  Therv> 
were  tears  in  Mrs.  Hamilton's  eyes,  and  her  husband's  were 
most  unwontedly  dim,  for  words  were  not  needed  to  reveal  to 
them  the  trial  of  that  moment  to  those  two  young  hearts.  To 
Ellen's  especially,  for  her  lot  was  woman's  —  to  endure  until 
time  should  prove  the  reality  of  Edward's  resolution,  and  mark 
him  indeed  the  noble  character  his  disposition  so  fondly  pro- 
mised. His  was  active  service,  the  banishment  of  thought  by 
deed.  Breaking  from  her  brother,  and  not  daring  to  address 
either  her  aunt  or  uncle,  lest  her  control  should  fail  her  too  soon, 
Ellen  hastened  from  the  room. 

"  Go  to  her,  aunt  Emmeline  ;  oh,  tell  her  I  will  never,  never 

.ause  her  to  suffer  again ! "  implored  Edward,  as  soon  as  he 

.ould  speak,  and  clasping  his  aunt's  hand.     "•  She  has  been 

truggling  with  herself  the  whole  evening  for  my  sake,  and  she 

will  suffer  for  it  to-morrow,  unless  she  give  it  vent,  and  she  will 

W3ep  less  painfully  if  you  speak  of  comfort." 

"  She  will  be  better  alone  a  little  while,  my  dear  boy  ;  young 
as  she  is,  she  knows  where  to  seek  and  find  comf  5rt,  and  her 
/ears  would  flow  more  freely,  conscious  only  of  the  presence 
and  healing  of  her  God.  I  shall  not  part  from  you  now.  Ellis 
wanted  me  for  some  directions  about  your  things,  and  I  will 
come  to  you  in  your  room  afterward." 


!>30  HOME    INFLUENCE. 

Mrs.  Hamilton  knew  the  human  heart  well.  A^hen  she  wert 
'X)  Ellen,  the  paroxysm  of  natural  sorrow  had  had  vent,  and  her 
sympathy,  her  earnestly  expressed  conviction  that  the  trial 
of  beholding  error  and  remorse  in  one  so  beloved  would  not 
occur  again,  could  bring  comfort.  The  tears  indeed  might  still 
have  flowed  the  faster,  pet  haps,  at  the  voice  of  kindness,  but 
there  was  healing  in  them  ;  and  when  her  aunt  left  her  to  go  to 
Edward,  she  sent  him  a  fond  message  that  she  was  better,  and 
in  a  few  days  would  be  happy,  quite  happy  for  his  sake. 

It  was  late  before  Mrs.  Hamilton  quitted  her  nephew.  "We 
will  not  repeat  all  that  passed  between  them,  all  that  that  fond 
watchful  relative  so  earnestly,  so  appealingly  said.  Not  much 
in  actual  words  of  counsel  had  she  ever  before  addressed  to 
him,  feeling  that  that  duty  was  better  performed  by  Mr.  How- 
ard and  his  uncle.  She  had  simply  tried  to  influence  him  by 
fhe  power  of  love,  of  forbearance,  of  sympathy  with  his  re- 
morse, and  pity  for  his  errors.  In  the  wretchedness,  the  fearful 
anxiety,  Ellen's  danger  and  painful  illness  had  occasioned  her- 
self individually,  she  had  never  spoken,  or  even  let  fall  a  sen- 
tence which  could  reproach  him  as  the  cause  of  all ;  and,  there- 
fore, now  that  she  did  give  her  anxious  affection  words,  they 
were  so  spoken,  that  her  nephew  never  forget  them. 

"  I  feel  now,"  he  had  said,  near  the  conclusion  of  their  inter- 
view, "  as  if  nothing  could  tempt  me  to  err  again  ;  but  oh,  aunt 
Emmeline,  so  I  thought  when  I  left  home  before ;  and  its  influ- 
ences all  left  me  as  if  they  had  never  been.  It  may  be  so  again 
and  —  and  —  are  there  not  such  doomed  wretches,  making  all 
they  love  best  most  miserable  ?  " 

"  Not,  indeed,  if  they  will  take  their  home  influences  with 
tbera,  my  beloved  boy.  They  deserted  you  before  because,  by 
the  insidious  sentiments  of  a  most  unhappy  man,  your  religion 
was  shaken,  and  you  flung  aside  with  scorn  and  misbelief  the 
only  safety  for  the  young  —  God's  most  Holy  Word.  The  in- 
fluences of  your  home  are  based  on  that  alone,  my  Edward. 
They  appear  perhaps  to  the  casual  observer  as  only  love,  in- 
dulgence, peace,  and  the  joy  springing  from  innocent  and  happy 
hearts  ;  but  these  are  mere  flowers  springing  from  one  immortal 
root.  In  God's  Word  alone  is  our  safety,  there  alone  our 
strength  and  our  joy ;  and  that  may  be  yours  still,  my  boy, 
though  fur  away  from  us,  and  in  a  little  world  with  interests 
and  temptations  of  its  own.  Take  this  little  Bible  ;  it  has  been 
my  constant  companion  for  eighteen  years,  and  to  non'j  but  to 
yourself  would  I  part  with  it.  If  you  fear  your  bettei  feelings 
failing  r«ad  it,  be  girded  by  it,  if  at  first  only  for  the  sake  of 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  381 

those  you  love ;  1  do  not  fear,  but  that  very  soon  you  will  do  so 
for  its  own  sake.  It  bears  a  name  within  it  which  I  think  will 
ever  keep  it  sacred  in  your  care,  as  it  has  been  in  miie." 

Edward  opened  it  eagerly,  "  Charles  Manvers ! "  he  ex- 
claimed ;  "  My  own  sailor-uncle,  whose  memory  you  have  &o 
taught  me  to  love.  It  is  indeed  a  spell,  dear  aunt,  and  you 
ehall  never  regret  a  gift  so  precious.  But  how  came  it  yours  ?  " 

"  Pie  came  to  me  just  before  starting  for  his  last  trip,  entreat- 
ing me  to  exchange  Bibles  with  him,  that  in  our  most  serious 
moments  we  might  think  of  each  other.  It  was  such  an  un- 
usually serious  speech  for  him,  that  it  seemed  to  thrill  me  with 
a  vague  foreboding,  which  was  only  too  soon  realized.  I  never 
saw  him  again  ;  and  that  little  book  indeed  increased  in  value." 

Her  voice  faltered,  for  even  yet  the  memory  of  her  brother 
was  so  dear  to  her  that  she  could  never  speak  of  him  without 
emotion.  Edward  reiterated  his  eager  assurance  that  it  should 
be  equally  valuable  to  him,  adding  — 

"I  have  often  had'strange  fancies  about  uncle  Charles,  aunt, 
and  longed  for  the  command  of  a  ship,  to  SCOUT  the  coast  of 
Algiers,  and  learn  something  more  about  the  Leander.  Some- 
how or  other,  I  never  can  believe  he  was  drowned,  and  yet  to 
think  of  him  as  a  slave,  is  terrible." 

"  And  not  likely,  my  dear  boy ;  think  of  the  lapse  of  years. 
But  painful  as  it  is,  we  must  separate,  Edward ;  I  must  not 
detain  you  from  rest  and  sleep  any  longer.  Only  give  me  one 
promise  —  if  ever  you  are  led  into  temptation  and  error  again, 
arid  it  may  be  —  for  our  strongest  resolutions  sometimes  fail 
us  —  write  to  me  without  the  smallest  hesitation,  openly,  freely  ; 
tell  me  all,  and  if  you  need  aid,  ask  it,  and  I  will  give  it ;  and, 
if  it  be  possible  avert  your  uncle's  displeasure.  I  have  no  fear 
that,  in  telling  you  this,  I  am  weakening  your  resolution,  but 
only  to  prevent  one  fault  becoming  many  by  concealment  — 
from  dread  of  anger,  and  therein  the  supposed  impossibility  of 
amendment.  Remember,  my  beloved  boy,  you  have  a  claim  on 
me  which  no  error  nor  fault  can  remove  ;  as,  under  providence, 
the  preserver  of  my  husband,  I  can  never  change  the  anxious 
love  I  bear  you.  You  may  indeed  make  me  very  miserable, 
but  I  know  you  will  not ;  you  will  let  me  look  on  your  noble 
deed  with  all  the  love,  the  admiration,  it  deserves.  Promise 
me  that,  Under  any  difficulty  or  error,  small  or  great,  you  will 
write  to  me  as  you  would  have  done  to  your  own  beloved 
mother,  and  I  shall  have  no  fear  remaining." 

Edward  did  promise,  but  his  heart  was  so  full  he  could  not 
restrain  himself  any  longer,  and  as  Mrs.  Hamilton  folded  him 


?82  HOME   INFLUENCE. 

to  her  heart,  in  a  silent  but  tearful  embrace,  be  wept  on  her 
shoulder  like  a  child. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

THE    BIRTHDAY    GIFT. 

BRIGHTLY  and  placidly,  as  the  course  of  their  own  beautiful 
river,  did  the  days  now  pass  to  the  inmates  of  Oakwood.  Let- 
ters came  from  Edward  so  frequently,  so  happily,  that  hope 
would  rest  calmly,  joyously,  even  on  the  thought  of  him.  He 
never  let  an  opportunity  pass,  writing  always  to  Mrs.  Hamilton 
(which  he  had  scarcely  ever  done  before,)  and  inclosing  his 
letters  to  Ellen  open  in  hers.  The  tone,  the  frequency,  were  so 
changed  from  his  last,  that  his  family  now  wondered  they  had 
been  so  blind  before  in  not  perceiving  that  his  very  seeming 
liveliness  was  unnatural  and  overstrained. 

With  Ellen  too,  Mrs.  Hamilton's  anxious  care  was  bringing 
in  fair  promise  of  success  —  the  mistaken  influences  of  her  child- 
hood, and  their  increased  effect  from  a  morbid  imagination,  pro- 
duced from  constant  suffering,  appearing,  indeed,  about  to  be 
wholly  eradicated.  Anxious  to  remove  all  sad  associations 
connected  with  the  library,  Mrs.  Hamilton  having  determined 
herself  to  superintend  Ellen's  studies,  passed  long  mornings  in 
that  ancient  room  w.ith  her,  so  delightfully,  that  it  became  as- 
sociated only  with  the  noble  authors  whose  works,  or  extracts 
from  whom,  she  read  and  revelled  in,  and  which  filled  her  mind 
with  such  new  thoughts,  such  expansive  ideas,  such  calming 
and  earnest  truths,  that  she  felt  becoming  to  herself  a  new  be- 
ing. Lively  and  thoughtless  as  Emmeline  she  could  not  now 
indeed  become  —  alike  as  their  dispositions  naturally  were;  but 
Khe  was  more  quietly,  enduringly  happy  than  she  had  ever  re- 
membered herself. 

There  was  only  one  alloy,  one  sad  thought  that  would  intrude^ 
causing  a  resolution,  which  none  suspected ;  for,  open  as  she  had 
become,  she  could  breathe  it  to  none  but  Ellis,  for  she  alone 
could  assist  her,  though  it  required  many  persuasions  and  many 
assurances,  that  she  never  could  be  quite  happy,  unless  it  was 
accomplished,  which  could  prevail  on  her  to  grant  it.  Ellen 
knew,  felt  more  and  more  each  week,  that  she  could  not  rest  till 
she  had  labored  for  and  obtained,  and  returned  into  her  aun«'» 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  383 

hands  the  full  sum  she  had  so  involuntarily  appropriated.  The 
only  means  she  could  adopt  demanded  such  a  seeming  intermin- 
able period  of  self-denial,  patience,  and  perseverance,  that  at 
first  as  Ellis  represented  and  magnified  all  connected  with  it, 
she  felt  as  if,  indeed,  she  could  not  nerve  herself  for  the  task, 
much  as  she  desired  to  perform  it;  but  prayer  enabled  her  to 
face  the  idea,  till  it  lost  its  most  painful  aspect,  and  three  months 
after  Edward's  departure  she  commenced  the  undertaking,  re- 
solved that  neither  time  nor  difficulty  should  deter  her  from  its 
accomplishment.  What  her  plan  was,  and  whether  it  succeed- 
ed, we  may  not  here  inform  our  readers.  Should  we  be  per- 
mitted to  resume  our  History  of  the  Hamilton  Family,  both 
will  be  revealed. 

Greatly  to  Caroline's  delight,  the  following  October  was  fixed 
for  them  to  leave  Oakwood,  and,  after  a  pleasant  tour,  to  make 
the  long  anticipated  visit  to  London.  There  would  then  be 
three  or  four  months'  quiet  for  her  to  have  the  benefit  of  mas- 
ters, before  she  was  introduced,  and  Mrs.  Hamilton  fondly 
hoped,  that  the  last  year's  residence  at  home,  fraught  as  it  had 
been  with  so  much  of  domestic  trial,  and  displaying  so  many  hope- 
ful and  admirable  traits  in  Caroline's  disposition,  would  have 
lessened  the  danger  of  the  ordeal  of  admiration  and  gayety 
which  she  so  dreaded  for  her  child  —  whether  it  had  or  not,  a 
future  page  will  disclose. 

To  Emmeline  this  arrangement  was  a  source  of  extreme  re- 
gret, individually,  in  which  Ellen  now  quite  sympathized.  But 
Emmeline  had  never  forgotten  her  mother's  gentle  hint,  that 
too  great  indulgence  of  regret  or  sorrow  becomes  selfishness, 
and  she  tried  very  hard  to  create,  some  anticipation  of  pleasure, 
even  in  London.  Ellen  would  not  look  to  pleasure,  but  merely 
tried  to  think  about — and  so,  when  called  upon,  cheerfully  to 
resign  that  which  was  now  so  intensely  enjoyable  —  her  studies 
with  her  aunt —  and  so  benefit  by  them  as  to  give  Miss  Har- 
court  no  trouble  when  she  was  again  under  her  care;  as  she 
knew  she  and  Emmeline  must  be,  more  than  they  had  been 
yet,  when  Caroline's  introduction,  and  their  residence  in  Lon- 
don, would  take  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hamilton  so  much  from  domestic 
pursuits  and  pleasures,  and,  even  when  at  home,  compel  them 
to  be  so  frequently  engrossed  with  a  large  circle  of  friends,  and 
all  the  variety  of  claims  on  their  attention  and  time,  which  a 
season  in  London  includes. 

It  was  again  the  7th  of  June,  and  Ellen's  birthday.  Accus- 
tomed from  the  time  she  became  an  inmate  of  Oakwood  to 
regard  the  anniversary  of  her  birth  in  the  same  serious  light  as 


384  HOME    INFLUENCE. 

Mrs.  Hamilton  had  taught  her  cousins  —  as  a  day  of  quiet  reflec 
uon,  as  well  as  of  thankfulness  and  joy,  as  one  that,  closing  and 
recommencing  another  year  of  their  individual  lives,  taught 
them  that  they  were  becoming  more  and  more  responsible 
beings  —  it  was  not  much  wonder  that  Ellen,  the  whole  of  that 
day,  should  seem  somewhat  less  cheerful  than  usual.  She  had 
indeed  had  many  sources  of  thankfulness  and  joy  during  the  past 
year,  but  a  heart  and  mind  like  hers  could  not  recall  its  princi- 
pal event  without  a  return  of  sorrow.  Mrs.  Hamilton  would 
not  notice  her  now  unusual  sadness  until  the  evening,  when 
perceiving  her  standing  engrossed  in  thought  beside  one  of  the 
widely-opened  windows,  near  which  Caroline  was  watering  some 
lovely  flowers  on  the  terrace,  she  gently  approached  her,  and, 
putting  her  arm  round  her,  said,  fondly  — 

"  You  have  thought  quite  seriously  and  quite  long  enough 
for  to-day,  my  dear  Ellen ;  I  must  not  have  any  more  such  very 
silent  meditations.  That  there  is  something  to  regret  in  the 
retrospect  of  the  last  year,  I  acknowledge,  but  you  must  not 
let  it  poison  all  the  sources  of  thankfulness  which  it  brings 
likewise." 

"  It  was  not  of  my  past  conduct,  I  was  thinking  at  this  moment, 
aunt  Emmeline  —  it  was  —  " 

"  What,  love  ?  tell  me  without  reserve." 

"What  I  never,  never  can  return  in  the  smallest  degree,  all 
I  owe  to  you,"  replied  Ellen,  with  a  sudden  burst  of  emotion, 
most  unusual  to  her  controlled  and  gentle  character ;  "  I  never 
can  do  any  thing  to  evince  how  gratefully,  how  intensely  I  feel 
all  the  kindness,  the  goodness  you  have  shown  me  from  the  first 
moment  you  took  me  to  your,  home  —  an  unhappy,  neglected, 
ailing  child,  and  this  year  more,  more  than  ever.  My  own  poor 
mother  left  me  in  my  dangerous  illness,  and  what  have  you  not 
done  to  give  me  back  not  merely  physical,  but  mental  health? 
Day  and  night  you  watched  beside  me,  forgetting  all  the  care, 
the  misery,  my  conduct  had  caused  you,  only  thinking,  only 
seeking,  to  give  me  back  to  health  and  happiness.  Oh,  aunt 
Emmeline,  your  very  household  can  evince  gratitude  and  love, 
in  the  performance  of  their  respective  duties  —  I  can  do  nothing, 
never  can.  If  I  only  could." 

"  Do  you  remember  the  fable  of  the  lion  and  the  mouse,  my 
dear  Ellen,  and  Miss  Edgeworth's  still  prettier  story  on  the 
same  subject  ?  "  replied  Mrs.  Hamilton,  more  affected  than  she 
chose  to  betray,  though  she  drew  her  niece  closer  to  her,  and 
kissed  her  fondly.  "  I  hope  I  shall  never  be  caught  in  a  net, 
nor  exposed  to  such  horrors  and  danger  as  poor  Madame  da 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  385 

Floury  in  the  French  Revolution ;  but  for  all  that,  and  unlikely 
as  it  seems  now,  iny  dear  child,  you  may  have  many  an  oppor- 
tunity to  return  all  that  YOU  so  gratefully  feel  you  owe  me. 
Do  not  let  any  such  thought  worry  you ;  but  believe  me,  when 
I  assjre  you  that  affection  and  confidence  are  the  only  return 
I  require,  united,  as  they  are  in  you,  with  such  an  earnest  de- 
sire, and  such  persevering  efforts  to  become  all  your  best  frienda 
can  wish  you." 

She  was  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  Emmeline,  with  a 
small  parcel  in  her  hand. 

"  Mamma,  this  has  just  arrived  from  Exeter  for  you ;  with 
an  apologizing  message  from  Mr.  Bennet,  saying,  it  should  have 
been  here  last  night,  as  he  promised,  but  he  could  not  get  the 
articles  from  London  in  time.  I  am  so  very  curious  as  to  what 
it  possibly  can  be,  that  I  would  bring  it  to  you  myself." 

"Any  other  time  I  would  punish  your  constant  curiosity,  Em- 
meline, by  refusing  to  gratify  it.  I  cannot  do  so  now,  however, 
for  I  should  punish  myself  as  well.  I  did  want  it  most  parti- 
cularly this  morning ;  but  I  am  glad  it  was  not  delayed  till  the 
day  was  quite  over.  Your  uncle  and  I  did  not  forget  your 
birthday,  my  dear  Ellen,  though  it  seemed  so."  And  opening  the 
parcel  as  she  spoke,  a  very  pretty  jewel-case  appeared,  contain- 
ing the  watch,,  cross,  and  all  the  other  trinkets  Ellen  had  placed 
in  Mrs.  Langford's  hand,  and  never  had  had  the  courage  to 
Inquire  for,  and  the  few  her  aunt  had  kept  for  her,  but  so 
prettily  arranged  and  beautifully  burnished,  that  she  would 
scarcely  have  known  them  again. 

"  Did  you  never  feel  any  curiosity  as  to  the  fate  of  your 
trinkets,  my  love,  that  you  have  never  asked  about  them  ?  " 

"  I  knew  they  were  in  better  hands  than  my  own,"  replied 
Ellen,  with  a  quivering  lip.  "  I  felt  I  had  no  further  right  to 
them,  after  attempting  to  part  with  them." 

"  I  know  there  are  some  very  painful  associations  connected 
with  these  trinkets,  my  dear  Ellen,  and,  therefore,  I  would  not 
return  them  to  your  own  care,  till  I  could  add  to  them  a  birth- 
day-gift," and,  lifting  the  upper  tray,  she  took  out  a  gold  chain, 
and  a  pair  of  bracelets  of  chaste  and  beautiful  workmanship  — 
"  that  the  sad  memories  of  the  one  may  be  forgotten  in  the 
pleasant  thoughts  of  the  other.  I  have  only  one  condition  to 
make,"  she  added,  in  an  earnest  lower  tone,  as  Ellen  tried  to 
speak  lier  thanks,  but  could  only  cling  to  her  aunt's  neck  and 
weep.  "  If  ever  again  you  are  tempted  to  dispose  of  them, 
dearest,  promise  me  to  bring  them  to  me,  for  my  valuatioa 
first." 


386  HOME   INFLUENCE. 

"  You  shall  be  put  into  fetters  at  once,  Ellen,"  said  Emrae 
line,  joyously,  as  her  cousin  gave  the  required  promise,  s< 
eagerly,  that  it  was  evident,  she  felt  how  much  security  dwelt 
in  it.     "  Mamma,  make  her  put  them  on  ;  I  want  to  see  if  she 
looks  as  interesting  as  Zenobia  did  in  her  golden  chains." 

"  I  think  you  might  find  a  prettier  simile,  Emmelinc.,"  replied 
Mrs.  Hamilton,  smiling,  as  she  granted  her  request,  by  throwing 
the  chain  round  Ellen's  neck,  and  fastening  the  bracelets  on 
her  wrists. 

K  So  I  can,  and  so  I  will,"  replied  the  lively  girl,  altering, 
without  the  smallest  hesitation,  the  lines  to  suit  her  fancy  — 

"  For  thee,  rash  girl,  no  suppliant  sues ; 
For  thee  may  vengeance  claim  her  dues , 
Who,  nurtured  underneath  our  smile. 
Repaid  our  cares  with  treacherous  wile. 

Dishonoring  thus  thy  loyal  name, 
Fetters  and  warders  ihou  must  claim. 
The  chain  of  gold  was  quick  unstrung, 
Its  links  on  that  fair  neck  were  flung; 
Then  gently  drew  the  glittering  band, 
And  laid  the  clasp  on  Ellen's  hand." 


T  H  K      tt  N  D  , 


CHRISTIAN  REID'S  NOVELS. 


VALERIE  AYLMER.    8vo.     Paper,  price,  $1.00;  cloth,  $1.50. 

"One  of  the  best  and  most  readable  novels  of  the  season." — Philadelphia  Post. 

"The  story  is  of  marked  and  sustained  interest." — Chicago  Journal. 

"The  author  is  one  of  the  rising  and  brilliant  lights  of  American  literature."— 
Portland  A  rgus. 

"  The  story  is  very  interesting,  and  admirably  written." — Charleston  Courier. 

MORTON  HOUSE.    With  Illustrations.   8vo.    Paper,  price,  $1.00; 

cloth,  $1.50. 
1  For  the  sake  of  our  literature  we  trust  that  the  author  will  not  pause  in  her  new 


"  Interesting  from  beginning  to  end." — Eclectic  Magazine. 
"  It  is  long,  very  long  since  we  have  read  an  American  novel  of  any  thing  like 
equal  merit." — Philadelphia  Press. 

MABEL  LEE.  With  Illustrations.  8vo.  Paper,  price,  $1.00; 
cloth,  $1.50. 

'A  story  of  absorbing  interest." — St.  Louis  Republican. 

'A  tale  of  vivid  interest;  full  of  natural,  striking  characterization."— Banner  of 
the  South. 

'The  story  is  one  of  thrilling  interest." — New  York  Express. 

'A  capital  picture  of  Southern  character  and  society." — Boston  Gazette. 

'No  American  author  of  to-day  charms  us  so  much." — Portland  Argus. 

EBB-TIDE.  With  Illustrations.  8vo.  Paper,  price,  $  I.  oo ;  cloth, 
$1.50. 

"  '  Ebb-Tide '  is  a  story  of  power  and  pathos,  and  will  be  much  admired." — Boston 
Commonwealth. 

"  Scenes  and  incidents  portrayed  with  vividness  and  skill." — Boston  Traveller. 

"The  plot  is  interesting  and  well  developed,  and  the  style  is  both  spirited  and 
cjear." — Boston  Gazette. 

NINA'S  ATONEMENT,  and  Other  Stories.  With  Illustrations. 
8vo.  Paper,  price,  $l.oo;  cloth,  $1.50. 

"  To  readers  in  want  of  a  book  with  which  to  while  away  an  after-dinner  hour,  of 
cheat  railway  traveling  of  its  tedium,  we  commend  this  collection  of  stories  and  nov- 
ellettes." — N.  Y.  Arcadian. 

A  DAUGHTER  OF  BOHEMIA.  I  vol.  Illustrated.  Paper, 
price,  $1.00;  cloth,  $1.50. 

"  Those  who  have  followed  the  course  of  this  remarkable  story  through  APPLETONS' 
JOCRNAL  will  need  no  fresh  incentive  to  induce  them  to  read  it  in  book-form;  and  to 
those  who  have  not  thus  followed  it  there  remains  an  opportunity  for  real  mental  en- 
joyment which  we  almost  envy  them.  It  is  emphatically  thus  far  one  of  the  best  novels 
of  the  season." — The  Golden  Age. 

"  It  is  a  novel  of  brilliancy  and  attractiveness  in  its  conversation  and  style  gener- 
ally, on  a  par  with  the  writer's  previous  books." — N.  Y.  Evening-  Mail. 

D.  APPLETON  &  CO.,  Publishers, 

549  &  55 J  BROADWAY,  N.  Y. 


GRACE    AGUILAR'S    WORKS. 


HOME  INFLUENCE.     A  Tale  for  Mothers  and  Daughters 

Cloth,  $1. 

THE    MOTHER'S    RECOMPENSE.     A  Sequel  to  Home  In- 

fluence.    Cloth,  $1. 

WOMAN'S  FRIENDSHIP.    A  Story  of  Domestic  Life.    Cloth, 

THE  VALE  OF  CEDARS;  or,  the  Martyr.    Cloth,  $1. 

THE   DAYS  OF   BRUCE.     A  Story  from  Scottish  History.     2 
vols.    Cloth,  $2.00. 

HOME  SCENES  AND  HEART  STUDIES.    Tales.  Cloth,  $1. 
THE   WOMEN   OF   ISRAEL.     Characters  and  Sketches  from 

the  Holy  Scriptures.    Two  vols.    Cloth,  $2.00. 


CRITICISMS  ON  GEACE    AGUILAR'S  WORKS. 

HOME  INFLUENCE.—"  Grace  Aguilar  wrote  and  spoke  as  one  inspired  ; 
she  condensed  and  spiritualized,  and  all  her  thoughts  and  feelings  were 
steeped  in  the  essence  of  celestial  love  and  truth.  To  those  who  really  knew 
Grace  Aguilar,  all  eulogium  falls  short  of  her  deserts,  and  she  has  left  a 
blank  in  her  particular  walk  of  literature,  which  we  never  expect  to  see 
filled  u\>."'—Pilrjrimages  to  English  Shrines,  by  Mrs.  Hull. 

MOTHER'S  RECOMPENSE.  -"  '  The  Mother's  Recompense'  forms  ;i 
fitting  close  to  its  predecessor,  •  Home  Influence.1  The  results  of  maternal 
care  are  fully  developed,  its  rich  rewards  are  set  forth,  and  its  lesson  and 
its  moral  are  powerfully  enforced." — Morning  Post. 

WOMAN'S  FRIENDSHIP.—"  "SVe  congratulate  Miss  Aguilar  on  til- 
spirit,  motive,  anil  composition  of  this  story.  Her  aims  are  eminently 
moral,  and  her  cause  comes  recommended  by  the  most  beautiful  associa- 
tions. These,  connected  with  the  skill  here  evinced  in  their  development, 
insure  the  success  of  her  labors.'"— Illustrated  News. 

VA  LE  Or  CET)A  JtS.-  "  The  authoress  of  this  most  fascinatingyolume  has 
selected  for  her  fit-Id  one  of  the  most,  remarkable  eras  in  modern  history— tho 
reigns  of  Ferdinand  and  Isabella.  The  tale  turns  on  the  extraordinary  ex- 
tent to  which  concealed  Judaism  had  <rained  footing  at  that  period  in  Spain. 
It  is  marked  by  much  power  of  description,  and  by  a  woman's  delicacy  of 
touch,  and  it  will  add  to  its  writer's  well-earned  reputation."— EcUctic  Rev. 

I>A  YS  OF  URTrcE.—"  The  tale  is  well  told,  the  interest  warmly  sustained 
throughout,  and  the  delineation  of  female  character  is  marked  by  a  delicate 
sense  of  moral  beauty.  It  is  a  work  that  may  be  confided  to  the  hands  of  a 
daughter  by  her  parent."—  Court  Journal. 

HOME  SCENES.— "Grace  Atruilar  knew  the  female  heart  better  than  ai\v 
writer  of  our  day,  and  in  every  fiction  from  her  pern  we.  trace  the  same 
masterly  analysis  and  development  of  the  motives  and  feelings  of  woman'* 
nature." — Critic. 

WOMEN  OF  ISRAEL.— "  A  work  that  is  sufficient  of  Itself  to  create  and 
crown  a  reputation."— Mrs.  .?.  C.  Hull. 

D.  APPLETON  &  CO,,  Publisher 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


CIWE 


RECTO  LO-W- 


" 


APR  02 


992 


Form  L9-32rn-8,'57(.C8680s4)444 


*pmr  -  V        3  1158  001 89  "7528 

'01         Home   influence  Y 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A    001  344  756 


PR 

iiOOl 

A275h 


